Beauty and the Bad Boy
by dashing ghosts
Summary: The low-down on George Weasley: troublemaker, womanizer, heartbreaker. He's only out to have fun, and he doesn't fall in love. No one expects that pretty, sophisticated Alicia Spinnet would become the exception to this. –GW/AS
1. Encounter

_This is written in Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts. Alicia and George are sixth-years, and everything else canonical is proceeding canonically. I'm going to try my best not to rush the romance. _

**DISCLAIMER: **The Harry Potter universe does not belong to me. Alicia and George do not belong to me. In other words, a lot of things in this fan-fiction do not belong to me. However, all the chocolate in my house belongs to me. And for now, I can live with just that.

* * *

**1995. **

Name: Alicia Spinnet

Year: 6

Blood status: half-blood

Alicia's been blessed with a pretty stress-free life for the past sixteen years. She spent most of her childhood acquainting herself with her father's Muggle toys and wasn't introduced to magic until she was six, when she started making the swingset push herself at the playground without even trying.

Her parents have been bearable and that's enough for her. Sometimes her mother goes overboard with her ideals on how young ladies should appear and behave. Sometimes her father gets irrationally exasperated with mentions of magic school and needs some time away from home. But they hold together, and she tells herself that's enough.

The years have been kind to her. Alicia is pretty and clever. She follows the rules and removes herself from dangerous situations. She avoids people that spell trouble and plays well with other girls.

She never imagines that one semester – scratch that, one _person_ – can change that so drastically.

* * *

**JANUARY.** It's the best room in the castle. It really is.

Alicia smiles in response to the sound of silence greeting her when she steps into the Charms classroom and closes the door. It's empty, and the sun has just barely set, so the room is cool and still and just the right amount of dark.

She makes her way over to her usual spot, the enormous upholstered armchair behind the teacher's table, and sinks into the silky-smooth leather. Because she's alone, she grins to herself in content and breathes in the perfection that is classroom 2E.

Charms is her best and favorite subject. Professor Flitwick dotes on her and lets her use his classroom whenever she likes. Alicia comes in from time to time, in the evenings when she knows it won't be used, and relaxes in solitude or finishes her assignments. It's the best room in the castle. The perfect spot, undisturbed.

Completely hers.

Before Alicia can knock on wood and protect her dreamy haven, someone else knocks on the classroom door.

"Anyone in here?"

Alicia panics.

For a fraction of a second, she seriously deliberates impersonating Professor Flitwick.

Over the next few heartbeats, she juggles the thought of hiding under the table or scurrying into one of the students' desks and pretend she's serving detention.

Too late.

"Hey—"

He sees her.

"No way. Spinnet?"

She blinks into the semi-darkness at the mysterious figure that is staring in her direction. "Who are you?" she says suspiciously.

The intruder comes up the rows of desks, approaching her. "Whoa, it's just me, George."

Alicia doesn't know how to look – surprised, confused, or apprehensive.

It's _George Weasley. _Resident bad boy. Twin of Fred Weasley, other resident bad boy. They break rules and hearts and bones and basically everything they come into contact with. They're trouble, they're danger, and Alicia does not feel remotely comfortable in their company unless someone like Angelina or Oliver or even little Harry is there with them.

"What are you doing here?" he asks her, sounding wary.

"What are _you _doing here?" she fires back, not looking at him.

"I asked you first."

"I was here first."

"What?" he smirks, looking faintly confused. "That shouldn't even matter."

Alicia ignores him. "Oh, I want to guess," she muses, not unkindly. "You're … hiding from a teacher."

George shakes his head. "I'd hide from a teacher in a classroom?"

She shrugs. "Reverse psychology," she suggests, then, in a burst of inspiration, declares, "Oh, I know, you're hiding from girls?"

"Why would I hide from a girl?" George scoffs, as though questioning her intelligence. "Alright, for one thing, I am of the gender that is superior in strength and skill, so I wouldn't _need _to ever hide from a girl. Secondly … girls are hot. Why would I want to be away from them?"

"Sexism!" Alicia exclaims, pretending to smack Flitwick's desk in mock fury. "There are _so_ many things wrong with that statement," she tells him, unimpressed. "It receives a negative grade. You fail. Sorry. Goodbye." She tacks on a humorless smile and dainty little wave to emphasize her point.

George Weasley, being George Weasley, is not even fazed. He swoops into one of the open students' seats, dropping his books on the desk and leaning forward in mock enthusiasm. "No, no, I want to hear this," he says, looking curious and dangerous all at once. "Tell me more of your theories."

Alicia, being her lovely, patient, and tolerating self, decides to forego the lecture on chauvinism and acting like a pig (a decision that may or may not have been influenced by the fact that George Weasley was a _Grade-A troublemaker _with the means to ruin every aspect of her life if she went there). So she decides to humor him, instead, and gives him what he wants.

"Right, well, maybe you're running from a girl because you've just cruelly ditched her best friend in some gross little corner of the castle where she's currently crying her eyes out and making dying animal noises—"

"I can inspire dying animal noises?" George cuts in, looking pleased.

"Or maybe you turned her hair green—"

"Please," George scoffs, "that stunt barely scrapes the bottom of the _amateur _barrel."

"Or maybe you're running from Madam Pomfrey because you just stole chocolate from the Hospital Wing!" she exclaims, in the slow-to-fast progression characteristic of dawning realizations. "Oh my gosh, please share—"

"Whoa, that is _way _off base," George says quickly, drawing back a bit at the pleading look in her eyes. "How many more _weird ideas_ do you have?"

Alicia frowns at him. "Don't insult my ideas. If you're going to shoot down all my theories like a smart-ass you might as well just tell me the real reason you've come here, and save me a lot of hurt."

He smirks a little at that, but ducks his head to hide it. (Too bad; she catches it.) "Well, little miss, when you put it _that _way …" Suddenly he glances up, and the locking of their eyes is almost _audible, "_Anything to keep you from hurting, I suppose."

Alicia holds his stare and seethes on the inside. Seven minutes in his presence and he's already started playing. Typical.

"Go on," she urges him, all business, "I haven't got all night."

His eyes dart to all the places around her, taking in the fact that she's not exactly working on anything, noting her relaxed posture, and the skeptical lift of his eyebrow confirms that he's aware she hasn't exactly been up to anything tonight.

"I was looking for Flitwick," George admits with a shrug. "Know where he is?"

"Why are you looking for Flitwick?" Alicia wonders, ignoring his inquiry.

George narrows his eyes. "That's my business," he says, smiles tightly. "Where is he, Spinnet?"

Alicia takes the hint and drops the subject faster than a hot Bezoar. She will not deny being just a teensy-tiny bit intimidated by George Weasley.

"I don't know," she tells him honestly. "He's never usually in here in the evenings unless there's a Charms Club meeting."

"Charms Club?" George repeats dumbly. "We have a Charms Club here?"

Alicia looks affronted. "Of course we do! And it is, like, the _coolest _thing ever. Honestly, I think you're out of the loop on this one because you don't meet our _cool _standards."

George blinks at her, processing what she's said, then a slow, Cheshire-style smile devours his blank expression. He leans forward, snickering, "No way. You're _in _the Charms Club?"

Alicia takes a moment to ponder his delight before nodding cautiously.

"No way!" he repeats laughingly, falling back in his chair and giving her a round of understated, slow, and sarcastic applause. "That is _extremely _dorky."

Alicia's mouth drops open slightly with indignation. "Hey! Stop judging me," she says weakly.

This only causes him to laugh harder. "I can't believe I'm actually talking to someone in the Charms Club!"

Okay, now he's just being a prat.

"Okay, now you're just being a prat," Alicia tells him, glaring.

George's mirth subsides eventually but once he's calm enough to speak, he doesn't. He just sits there, looking at Alicia in a new light, his eyes teasing.

After regarding her silently for a few moments, he finally says, in a very offhand way, "Fine, you play Quidditch. Which actually _is _the coolest thing ever. So you balance out."

Alicia leans her elbow on the teacher's table and rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, rolling her eyes at him. "So I'm a zero?"

The tug at his mouth is instantaneous, but the smirk is somehow no longer as annoying as it previously had been. She can't quite explain why.

George raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "Well, I'd say Quidditch is _way _cooler than Charms Club, so it's not _perfect balance; _you're probably somewhere in the low positives." He smiles innocently at her as if he's doing her a favor.

Alicia blinks at him, not amused. "Gee, thanks. How gracious of you."

The smile goes back to being a smirk.

"Huh, I can't believe I never put this together," he muses, inspecting the skin on his palms. "Flitwick's pet. Best in the class … and Charms Club."

Alicia resents being called a teacher's pet (like, come _on_, she's not even that bad … have you _met _Hermione Granger?) but she maintains an indifferent air.

"There's nothing wrong with being smart," she retorts.

He appraises her with thoughtful eyes. "Didn't say there was," he says carefully. "Heck, wish _my _grades were half as high as yours."

Alicia purses her lips, hesitating with her thanks, then for some inexplicable reason she decides to ask, "Is that why you were looking for Professor Flitwick?"

(She must have grown a death wish sometime in the last half-hour.)

Surprisingly, he doesn't seem at all upset with the question. He grimaces and shrugs his shoulders, staring at the books in front of him with boredom. "Yeah, it was."

"But," she thinks aloud, "you've always been so good with spells. I mean, you've made so many things with—"

"It's not the same," George sighs, irritated. "I can _do _all of it, I just don't test well." After a beat, he adds, "I might suck with the theory, too."

Alicia says quietly, "I might believe that."

An amused, but wry chuckle escapes him.

"You could always come by our Charms Club meetings for extra help," Alicia offers brightly, giving him two thumbs-ups.

George just stares at her, looking half-pained.

"God," he mutters, "don't ever do that again. That's like, _dorky_ overkill."

Alicia draws back, momentarily offended, but then brushes it off and adopts an uncaring expression.

"Or you could just, like, you know, ask the Professor for help," she scoffs. "Whatever. That too, I guess."

He smirks (he does that _way _too much, Alicia grumbles inwardly) and stands up, grabbing his books. "Guess so. If Flitwick comes back before you're out of here, let him know what I wanted, would you?"

Alicia nods, and lifts her hand in farewell as he walks away.

"Wait, George –" she calls out, when he's just made it to the door. When he turns around, she continues, "Um, you could also … come and find _me_ when you're having a hard time studying."

She watches the slight movement of his head, the flash of confusion in his eyes, then the settling of his expression into an interested look. He gives her one last glance (eyebrow raised, faint smirk) before he leaves the room.

It surprises her a bit. It unnerves her a lot.

* * *

TBC

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	2. Study Buddy

_Thanks for all the support and encouragement so far. Glad you guys liked that short intro chapter; plot is picking up from here. If you want, please tell me what you think of it, I love hearing what my readers have to say. _

**DISCLAIMER: **All but plot belongs to Rowling, kids. All but plot. And dialogue, I suppose. Plot and dialogue. And original names. Some are picked off of HP Wikia, others are just names thrown together by yours truly.

* * *

**FEBRUARY. **Is wrapping up. All at once it feels too fast, but at the same time George remembers thinking – at multiple points throughout the month – that it would never end.

So when George wakes up on the morning of the last day of January, he's feeling quite good about it. Unfortunately for him, however, the day has other plans for him.

"Anything from the devil?" he asks Fred, as an owl swoops overhead and drops two letters into the tiny space between them.

Fred flicks open the letters one by one while George pours pumpkin juice for the both of them.

"Nope … and nope," says Fred dejectedly, tucking the letters under his plate and starting on his breakfast. "A _looong _piece of work from Mum that I'd rather save for bedtime reading, and a notification that we never won that contest we entered in October."

George remembers the contest. It was a simple raffle, easy to win – (easy to _lose_) – and the prize had been a lot in Diagon Alley, plus six months free of rent. It'd been the perfect solution, and now it was dust.

He curses Ludo Bagman under his breath.

Fred panics anyway, and coughs loudly to cover it up. He glances up quickly across the table, where Lee Jordan is deep in conversation with Angelina Johnson over a Charms textbook.

"What're you guys talking about?" Fred asks, shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Angelina stares weirdly at his unmannered eating and closes her textbook, sitting up straighter. "I'm just filling Lee in on all the material that Professor Flitwick mentioned might be tested tomorrow."

Lee rubs the back of his neck and grimaces, abashed. "Yeah … I might've, uh, _not _been paying as much attention as I should've, this term …"

Fred and George blink in unison.

"There's—"

"—a _test?_—"

"—in Charms?—"

"—_tomorrow_?"

Angelina and Lee exchange glances, then Lee bursts out laughing and Angelina shakes her head, sighing.

"Why am I not surprised?" she declares dramatically, standing up from the table. "Well, I've got a free period first, so I'm going to get a headstart on studying. See you guys later."

Lee's laughter subsides, but he continues to grin at the twins. "You guys really didn't know?"

"To know is to possess knowledge," Fred exclaims, with a philosophical air.

"Do we _look _like people who possess knowledge?" George smirks.

Lee's grin turns devilish. "Sure you do. On pranks, girls, and escape routes."

Fred fanned his face. "Oh, gosh, stop it. You're embarrassing us."

The trio continue bantering and goofing off for the rest of breakfast. Together, they all three walk up to classroom 2E, where most of their Charms class are already waiting for the lesson to begin.

Flitwick stands on a stack of books on the teacher's desk, patiently waiting for all his seats to be filled before he starts speaking.

He goes over all the things that are _definitely _going to be on tomorrow's test, and to George's dismay, there's a _lot _of theory. He should've expected this, since they've hardly been doing any spellwork since the new term started, but he can't help feeling slightly panicked as he sits there, staring hopelessly at the edge of Flitwick's desk, brow furrowed.

He glances over at his twin, who's fiddling with the pages of his textbook. At first, Fred doesn't look at all daunted by the test, but George catches the movement of his throat as Fred swallows, betraying the anxiety, no matter how small it might be.

George's eyes sweep the room, taking in the expressions of his classmates, who look unhappy and worried and annoyed all over, finding some relief in the unease of others.

Unintentionally, his eyes lock on Alicia Spinnet. Her gaze is down, as she tucks hair behind her ear, but she happens to cast her eyes sideways and he watches as they widen a fraction when she catches him looking.

With her elbow propped on the tabletop, she rests her chin in her hand and sends him a small, slightly smug smile.

George responds with a look of exaggerated terror (unfortunately, he's actually dead serious).

Alicia's smirk turns a little sad and she very secretively shows him a thumbs-up. He leans forward in his seat, furrowing his brow, but then realizes that she's being conspiratorial about it because he made fun of her for sticking up her thumbs the last time they spoke. He scoffs out at chuckle, remembering.

George stares at her a little longer, but Flitwick has her attention for the rest of the lesson. He doesn't know why, but the memory of talking with Alicia Spinnet and the sudden idea to do it again somehow makes him feel a little better.

* * *

"Will I see you after dinner?"

George raises an eyebrow and lets his hand linger for a moment too long on the small of the girl's back. "I don't know, will you still have your eyes after dinner?"

She giggles and rolls her eyes – though she _had _to know that he'd really meant _no you probably won't see me for a while because you've been fun but I'm pretty much done here – _leaving for the Great Hall while George makes his way up the staircase. The twins liked to spend the free time between their last class and dinnertime with the other Quidditch guys and Lee in a hidden corridor on the fifth floor. At Hogwarts, this group of Quidditch players held very colorful reputations.

Troublemakers. Womanizers. Outgoing, passionate, social, confident, _cool_. Their names were well known and their stories even more so.

"Where's Diggory?" Duncan Inglebee is asking, just as George sits down between Fred and Roger Davies.

"Said he wanted some time to himself to think about his next task," Anthony Rickett says.

"Is that why you haven't been with your little lady lately?" George jokes, nudging Roger.

Roger scoffs and smirks (somehow at the same time). "Nah. She got boring fast."

Anthony Rickett's jaw drops. "Dude … she's _hot_."

Lee Jordan flicks Rickett in the side of the head and snickers. "Wouldya listen to this keeper right here."

"That's kind of the point," Roger explains dryly. "She isn't just _hot_ … she's a _Veela_. It gets exhausting after a while, never being in control of yourself around her."

George tries to imagine it, and finds it pretty terrible.

"Yeah … doesn't sound fun," Fred agrees in a low voice.

Jeremy Stretton claps Roger on the back and chuckles. "No big deal, bro. Solo's the only way to go."

Lee snorts. "Got rejected again, did you?"

Jeremy glares at him, but his neck flushes red (it always does when he's embarrassed).

The other guys just laugh in good humor. When it came to girls, Jeremy Stretton was the one of the group with the least … _game_.

"So? Who was it?" demands Fred, amidst sniggers.

"Beth Copeland."

Roger Davies makes a face. "I've tried moving on her before, and lemme tell ya, mate, I wouldn't touch _that _one again if you paid me in Galleons."

"Why?" retorts Jeremy. "Yeah, she's no Fleur Delacour, I get that, but she's pretty good-looking. Pretty nice, too."

George scans his memory for a working mental image of Beth Copeland. He doesn't find one.

Huh. He should probably pay a lot more attention to his classmates.

"She's a bore," says Roger, counting off of his fingers with a mockingly serious face, "she's a _bore_, she's a priss, she's a shameless suck-up, doesn't know how to flirt, is too_ nice_—"

"How can you be _too _nice?" Lee thinks aloud, amused.

Roger stops listing Beth Copeland's faults and shrugs. "Whatever. _I _say you dodged a bullet, kid."

"So why'd she turn you down?" wondered Fred. "If you ask me, you're out of _her _league, man."

Jeremy shows a begrudging smile. "Said she didn't have time for a boyfr—"

"_Pleeeaaaaassseeeee,_" Roger groans obnoxiously, causing the other guys to laugh.

"No, it's probably true," defends Jeremy. "She's got a full course-load and she's got her book club, Charms Club, the Witches For Change Society, the—"

"Whoa, whoa, we believe you," laughs George. "What'd you do, _stalk _her?"

Jeremy's neck turns bright red, even brighter than before, if possible. A snort gets caught in Roger Davies' throat.

"I heard it somewhere," Jeremy mutters, not very believably.

Roger smirks. "Sure you did. Whatever. Just wasn't meant to be, champ. You guys don't even run in the same circles."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demands Jeremy, looking pissed.

"She's piss rich," spits Roger, "and probably a spoiled bloody brat, too."

"Liar," Jeremy snarls back. "Don't act like you know everything, when you _don't_."

"Whoa, hey, chill, you two," Fred says warningly, glancing back and forth between Roger and Stretton.

"I think I'll act the way I wanna act, and I think you don't have any right to call me out on it, seeing as you've _never _managed to beat me in a test," says Roger cuttingly. "Oh, wait, that reminds me – you've never beat _anyone_ in Ravenclaw, if my memory serves me correctly—"

"Ho-kay, time to go to dinner," Lee Jordan says loudly, standing up and, with his eyes, commanding the twins to follow suit. "Food's gonna get cold and … yeah … whatever."

He gives Roger's shoulder a little nudge in the direction of the stairs, and Anthony and Duncan follow. Fred and George fall back to calm Jeremy down.

"Cocky bastard," mutters Jeremy, clenching and unclenching his fists as they take painfully slow steps toward the staircase.

Over Jeremy's head, Fred and George exchange dubious glances.

"Yeah, he gets like that sometimes," George says quietly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Just the way he is. No big deal."

"Right," says Fred. "Don't let it get to ya, Stretboy."

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair and sighs, eyes fixed on his feet. "I was out of line too," he mumbles, sounding slightly ashamed. "He was kind of right."

"What do you mean?"

"Well … Beth Copeland's family is actually _loaded_," he explains, confirming Roger's earlier declaration. "She told me, but she doesn't want too many people to know. Her parents even bought her a place in Hogsmeade because they want her to start her own business someday. I reckon they've got just as much gold as the Malfoys or something. It just kind of ticked me off that Roger somehow _knew_ when I just found out a week ago."

If there's anything redeeming about Roger Davies besides his impeccable grades and dashing good looks, it's his ability to find out anything and everything.

"But he was wrong about her being a spoiled brat," Jeremy continues, looking slightly frustrated again. "We talk a lot in Charms and _I _don't think she's bratty."

"And that's all that counts, buddy boy," Fred says cheerily, clapping a hand on Jeremy's back.

George thumps Jeremy's shoulder with a fist in agreement. "Good on you, seeing the best in people and whatnot."

Jeremy just rolls his eyes and shrugs them both off. "I'm _serious_," he insists. "She's _not. _She actually hates how her parents fling around their wealth and she wants to do something more important than running some cute little shop in a puny village in the middle of nowhere. And she works really hard for her grades—"

"Does she get better grades than you?" Fred wonders before he can stop himself.

George chokes on nothing.

Jeremy's neck flushes scarlet once again and he mutters, "Go to hell, you tossers," before stomping off down the steps.

Left on their own, the twins raise their eyebrows at one another and shrug.

"Overly sensitive," murmurs Fred.

George whistles lowly, as if to say _tell me about it._

"But did you hear what he was telling us?" Fred says, suddenly excited.

"Not really, I was more focused on trying not to say the wrong thing," says George, "unlike you, you great prat. Way to piss him off. He was already on edge."

Fred ignores the reproach and opens his arms, grinning. "I believe we've just found the answer to all our problems, Georgie darling."

George cringes at the nickname because it's paired with a term of endearment and that is _never, ever _a good combination. "Do tell, brother dear."

"Beth Copeland," Fred says slowly, articulating each syllable with a flourish of his hand, "has a pretty little place of her own in Hogsmeade that's sitting there collecting dust and she hasn't a single desire to do anything with it."

"So, what, we buy this off of her?" George says. "I doubt we'd even be able to afford the best deal she can give us."

"The best deal," Fred corrects him, "would be if she were so comfortable with one of us that she offers to simply let us have it."

George is silent.

"Because she obviously does not _want _it," Fred prompts.

"Great observation," commends George loudly, then drops his voice and deadpans, "but I've never even talked to her. And neither have you."

"Then one of us will have to get to know her."

"I still don't see it."

"What if," Fred says, without hesitating, "it wasn't _just _for her _friend_?"

"What?"

"_Closer_ than friends. You know, _more._"

George stops, dead in his tracks, then slowly starts walking when the loud laughter of Roger tunes him back to the moment. He watches the backs of the other guys, descending down the final staircase, as he glares at Fred.

"One of us is going to court her?"

A sly smile overtakes Fred's face. "Ding-ding-ding," he says softly. "We have a winner."

George tries to picture it. Flirt with Beth Copeland. Ask Beth Copeland out. Become _very close _with Beth Copeland. Delude Beth Copeland into thinking they'll spend the rest of their lives together. Suggest that the twins take over the business so her family won't be disappointed in her. Pretend to support her non-entrepreneurial career choice. Make it seem like a win-win situation for both of them. Gain, gain, gain. Break up.

"We're going to use her," he clarifies in a low voice, his mouth forming a tight line of thought.

"Yes, we are," says Fred, without hesitation.

George looks over at Fred, who seems very confident this plan will work. In all honesty, George can actually imagine it panning out as well. With the right acting chops and a bit of time and patience, the outcome is foreseeably certain. They can pull it off. The twins, after all, are renowned for knowing no limits.

"Alright. Whatever," George shrugs. "It's not like we're breaking the law, so let's go for it. You have fun with it. Let me know how it goes for you, bro. Good luck."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, not. So. Fast." Fred seizes George's elbow as the latter tries to bypass him on the way to the table. He pulls his twin closer and whispers, "_I_ can't do it."

George's eyes widen, annoyed because he understands the implications. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about _Angelina," _sighs his twin.

"So? What's more important, _her _or the dream?" George insists.

Fred looks torn, and George isn't strong enough to wait for the answer.

"Whatever. Just explain it to her. She'll understand."

"No, she won't," Fred says, his voice suddenly hoarse. "She won't. I know it. She'll think it's stupid and wrong."

"It _is _stupid." He doesn't say it's wrong, because everything he does with women is technically _wrong_; he's never felt guilty about it before and he's not about to start.

"It's a fair shot."

"It's a _long _shot."

"Please," begs Fred. "Don't make me do that. Not after she just agreed to go with me to the Yule Ball."

George is also not strong enough to consciously hurt his twin. He knows this, and he knows what this will make him do.

He's single. He likes to play the field, test the waters. He's never had much interest in exclusive relationships. He hasn't had a girlfriend, _ever_, he's not looking for one – in other words, he's the perfect candidate for a fake relationship.

On the one hand, Jeremy Stretton says Beth Copeland's quite good-looking. Cute girls are always fun to play with, no matter the circumstances.

But on the other hand, it also means he's going to have to be serious about her. And stop fooling around with other girls. And condemn himself to a relationship of redundancy and restriction and everything he's always wanted to avoid.

He takes one look at Fred's face and shrugs. "I'll think about it," is all he says.

* * *

After dinner, George leaves Fred alone to work on his Potions homework with Angelina in the Gryffindor common room, grabbing his books and heading up to the classroom he was just in earlier this morning, where he knew someone would be there.

"Knock knock," he says, rapping at the door lightly.

"Who is it?" calls out the familiar voice (that isn't Flitwick).

"Your angel from above," he jokes, pushing open the door and stepping into the room.

Alicia Spinnet, looking mighty comfortable in the teacher's armchair once again, cocks her head to the side and makes a funny face, saying, "Coooooornyyyy…"

George smiles a little as he drops into one of the desks.

"Been a while, crocodile," she notes, "and that's not a very happy smile."

"Wow," George says simply, his smile growing slightly.

She shrugs nonchalantly. "Poet and I didn't know it," she muses.

"Aw, s'at all you got? I saw that coming."

"Oh, so you predict the future now, too."

"You bet I do," George says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. "Hm … let's see what tomorrow holds … bacon at breakfast … chatting up that brunette in Hufflepuff … and—" he opens his eyes, looking at her full-force, practically whispering the last bit: "—a _really _bad Charms test."

Alicia's expression softens and she shakes her head reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll do fine," she insists. "It won't be that difficult."

"Easy for you to say!" he exclaims, opening his arms and scoffing. "You're a Charms _nerd_! _And _the teacher's pet."

Alicia frowns at him. "Bully," she mutters.

"It was a compliment," he says, beaming innocently.

"Heaven forbid you ever pay an insult," she says, although she smiles faintly.

"So what's the good side of Gryffindor been up to?" he asks, tapping out a monotonous rhythm with his fingers on the tabletop.

Alicia pushes hair behind her shoulder and looks toward the ceiling in thought. "Hm … we've been making plans for this Hogsmeade weekend …"

"Who's we?" George wonders.

"Myself, Angelina, possibly Katie, Kenneth, Mia, Douglas, Clint, maybe Michael—"

As Alicia continues to list off names, George just nods his head. He knows she prefers to hang out with the good boys, some from Gryffindor, others from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. That's why it feels mighty strange, for him to be sitting in the same empty classroom as her, a mere three feet away, listening to her talk as though they'd been talking for hours, knowing things about her as though he's been knowing her forever.

"Beth Copeland?" he says suddenly, the name jumping out at him when Alicia says it.

She stops mid-name and glances at him. "She's a maybe," she shrugs. "We just want an even guy-to-girl ratio."

George stops tapping his fingers and draws them up to eye-level to inspect them under the light of the waxing moon. "What's she like, that one?"

"She's quite nice," Alicia says, too slowly.

George smirks. "You hate her."

"I do not," Alicia protests immediately.

He looks away, shaking his head and grinning, "Oh, man, you hate her _so _much—"

"Nonono, _she _hates _me," _Alicia gasps, throwing her hands into the air. "She _always _tries to exclude me in Charms Club, and I have _no _idea _why—"_

"Uh, isn't it obvious?" George laughs. "You're Flitwick's favorite. 'Course she's gonna do that to you. She's probably jealous."

Alicia pauses, then says, "Why did you ask about her, anyway?"

George sighs, then shrugs. "I'm thinking of making her my new target."

Alicia thinks that his expression, tone of voice, and words are very mismatched, but doesn't mention it. "Yeah? You excited?"

He rolls his eyes, and says wryly, "Could be fun. Dunno."

The look she gives him is a weird one. "I think," she tells him with amusement, "that I know better than to ask."

He grins at her, somewhat apologetically.

"Right, well, I _did _actually come here for a reason," George informs her, growing serious. "I need some peace and quiet away from Fred and your best friend while they flirt like ten-year-olds in the common room."

"Not to be rude," Alicia says sweetly, straightening up in the armchair, "but why didn't you just go to the library?"

George grimaces at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, miss, am I interrupting something? Or am I just generally unwelcome? Merlin, the service here is a _nightmare_."

Alicia rolls her eyes at him, but plays along. "Watch it, sir, or security will have to remove you from the premises."

George grins because he knows that by _security _she means herself and he'd _love _to see her try and remove him. "Is that right."

"I'm afraid so," she says, looking completely serious.

George hesitates for a moment, then admits lowly, "I didn't go to the library because I don't exactly fancy having other people … seeing me … _study_."

Alicia doesn't laugh at him. She pushes hair behind her ear and leans forward over the teacher's desk a little bit, eyes a little brighter than before. "Oh, you're gonna study?"

George gives her a wide-eyed look that says, _uh, hell yeah_ and holds up his Charms textbook. "Now don't disturb me, Spinnet, I gotta cram."

Alicia watches him flip open the textbook to Chapter Three and start reading. She fiddles with the quills on Flitwick's desk for a few moments before she gets up from the armchair and quietly makes her way over to where he's seated.

When he notices her presence, biting her lip as she's reading over his shoulder, hands behind her back, he stops reading and just stares at her.

She has faint freckles, he notes. A faint echo of the color of her hair. They're mostly on the edges of her nose. And _that's_ a cute nose. Turns up at the end, like a child's. She blinks, drawing his attention to her innocent blue eyes. When he's this close to her – so close he can notice the mascara –there's no missing the fact that she's (_damn) _attractive.

"You know, you're very pretty," he says in a low voice. "Pretty hot."

Alicia glances sidelong at him, then presses her hand to the side of his head and pushes him away. "Don't think I don't know your game, Weasley. Save it for the girls who like that."

"Don't pretend you don't _like_ being complimented," he grins, shaking her hand off of him.

"I know _exactly _what I like," she tells him confidently, "and I'm afraid it's everything you're scared of."

"What I'm _scared _of?" he scoffs, eyes twinkling. "Oh, do share."

Alicia flips her hair over her shoulder and places her hand on the edge of the desk, leaning against it. "Hm," she says thoughtfully, "commitment? Morals? Consideration for other people's feelings?"

"Please," George jokes, rolling his eyes, "they don't even _make _those things anymore."

She laughs lightly, but shakes her head at him.

He deliberates trying one of his standard moves on her, just to see what she'll put up with, but decides against it, since that'd probably end with her kicking him out right away and he'd really like somewhere nice and secret to study for just tonight.

"You know," she says suddenly, glancing sideways at him, "I could help you study."

George raises his eyebrows. "You could? I mean … you'd do that?"

She shrugs thoughtfully, then nods. "Yeah, I'd do that. If you'd like. If you're better studying on your own, I totally understand."

He shakes his head, slow and surprised. "Are you kidding? I suck at studying."

She fights a smile. "Well, _I've_ got this test tomorrow too, so it'll be good review for me."

"Good review," he mocks, whistling softly. "Listen to _you_."

"Shut up," she laughs lightly, hitting his shoulder. "It's not too late to take back my offer."

"Yes it is," he says, lightning fast, and she laughs a little louder.

"Don't worry..." Her voice is soft. "I wasn't going to." She leans down, turns a page, and asks, "Okay, so what are you having trouble with?"

George doesn't hesitate. "_Everything_."

Alicia draws back, startled. "But, not the wandwork, right?"

"Not the wandwork," he confirms with a confident nod.

"Good," she says, breathing a small sigh of relief. "Okay, so, I guess that leaves everything else …" Her voice trails off, and to him the dwindling sound is ominous.

She turns her back on him and for a second, he thinks she's about to give up on him and declare him a lost cause. Instead, she pushes herself up onto the desktop so she's sitting on the edge, leaning back on one arm and using the other to underline phrases from the text with her fingertip.

"Better get started, then," she says, and he likes the way her eyes gleam. It's the same gleam that he and Fred share so often, the one that embraces a challenge.

She's partway through explaining the first fundamental postulate of NEWT-level Charm theory when he interrupts her.

"Thanks, Spinnet. You're pretty awesome for doing this."

She doesn't lift her eyes from the book. She shrugs like it's no big deal (but he can see from the way she shrugs _a little too much _that she might be more pleased to hear it than she lets on).

"Call me Alicia."

* * *

TBC

_Question for you guys: I wanna know – **how did you picture Alicia from the books? **_

_Reviews are really cool. Please review! More reviews = updates!_


	3. Towler

_Thanks for all the support! Keep the comments coming, please :)_

_PS. Sorry if you get a lot of alerts for new chapters that are just old chapters. My hp dinosaur of a computer has this annoying glitch where it reverses my uploads if I mistakenly use the back button, so sometimes I return to FFnet finding that I need to re-post the chapter (and sometimes re-upload the original document), ugh. I'll try to be more careful in the future - and hopefully save up for a new model. Thanks for bearing with me. _

_** menakaren:** the first part of your link got removed :( Mind repeating that? I'd love to see your Alicia art._

**DISCLAIMER: **Anything you recognize from HP4 so far is, alas, Rowling's.

* * *

**MARCH. **Alicia sits next to Kenneth Towler at their table in the Three Broomsticks. Across from her are Mia Forbes and Clint Hilbrandt, and in the next table over, Angelina and Katie are entertaining Michael Corner and Douglas Dalton.

Kenneth Towler is everything that Alicia considers _good _in a guy. He's polite and well-mannered, and quite good-looking, too. He's got sandy blond hair that is always swept neatly across his forehead, smooth and flawless, and his hazel eyes are innocent and honest. He smiles with sincerity and never raises his voice. His posture is perfect and even his eating habits are tidy.

"Got enough room?" he asks her kindly, shuffling his seat over a few inches to accommodate her (though she doesn't need it). Alicia smiles, appreciating that he's minding her space, but she really could do without the blaring boundary here.

"Yes, I'm fine," she tells him, hiding her hurt with amusement. "You don't need to run so far away."

Kenneth blinks, startled, then looks into her eyes and frowns. "No, Alicia, that's not what I – um, I really actually – I think you're –"

She just looks right back, still smiling faintly.

He relaxes into a small smile and his eyes soften. "Look, I kind of pushed your friends into letting me sit with you just now, but I wasn't sure if you wanted the same thing."

Alicia wonders if he's under the impression that staring deeply at her for as long as humanly possible is going to somehow cast a spell over her.

(Not that it's necessary, of course. She's already pretty much decided that Kenneth Towler makes her perfect prince.)

She smiles a little wider. "I like this," she tells him in a low voice.

"Great, cool," he says, breathing a sigh of relief and straightening up in his chair. "Hey, are you guys all ready to order?"

Alicia bites her lip and looks away from the table, out of the window at the snowy village. _Way to brush off a moment, _she thinks, but shrugs it off as the waitress comes on by.

(However, she refuses to admit that he may actually have a flaw. She can deal with no moment. Whatever.)

After some drinks over a comfortable, good-humored conversation between friends, the group heads out to finish their shopping.

While they're busy browsing Honeydukes, Angelina corners Alicia over by the chocolates.

"_So_?"

"So the brownies are half-price," says Alicia matter-of-factly, "but the chocolate-covered pumpkin truffles are way cooler _and _they're limited edition …"

Angelina smacks the girl's arm, hissing, "I meant with Towler! We left him alone with you for the whole time at the Three Broomsticks! What happened?"

"_Nothing_," Alicia tells her, giving her a pointed look. "You failed to leave us alone _enough, _Ms. Johnson. That _or _he's just totally clueless that we'd make _so much sense _as a match."

"And you would," Angelina agrees. "He's totally your type."

"Ooh, what's her type?" squeals Katie. "I want to know!"  
"Oh, you know," Angelina smiles knowingly, "the _perfect guys_, the smart, hard-working, studious guys, the well-mannered and—"

"No way! That is _so_ Alicia," Katie laughs, turning to Alicia, who was rolling her eyes at Angelina. "Wait – it's not just because of your mother, is it?"

Alicia shakes her head. Her mother is known for being a huge stickler on ladylike behavior and propriety, but she assures her friends that what she would like in a boyfriend is completely independent of all that.

"That's good," Katie says, nodding. "Well, I think Towler's a good fit for you, then. He's certainly all of those things, and he's pretty good-looking, too. I think he fancies you back."

"Sometimes I do, _too_," Alicia sighs. "But he's one of those _mixed signals _guys."

Alicia soothingly rubs Alicia's shoulder. "It's okay, honey. You stock up on your dear chocolates and we'll get together in the dorm tonight and have a girls' night, alright? We'll have Katie over, too, and kick Patricia out somehow."

Alicia laughs with gratitude and obediently proceeds to fill her shopping basket with Honeydukes' famous chocolates (even the chocolate-covered pumpkin truffles, despite them being the most expensive thing there) while Angelina watches her fondly.

"Oh – hey, don't put those back, I like those."

Alicia laughs harder and tosses the box back in. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Practically every single day," Angelina says, rolling her eyes, "but I can never get enough Alicia love, _you _know that."

True to her word, Angelina pulls through in roping Katie into the event and bribing Patricia Stimpson to sleep in Katie's dorm for the night. By nine o'clock, the floor is littered with empty candy wrappers and chocolate boxes.

"Here, try this one, it's my favorite," Alicia says eagerly, thrusting a box of chocolates at Katie.

"Gonna finish this first," says Katie, indicating the Acid Pop currently in her hand. "And I thought _those _were your favorites." She points at a half-eaten box discarded on the floor.

"Hey, I can't pick just one," says Alicia. "Would you make a mother choose between her children?"

Katie bursts into a fit of giggles while Angelina shrieks, "_My _mother would pick my little brother, no hesitation."

Right outside the door, at this very moment, Lee Jordan, Fred Weasley and George Weasley are passing through the corridor.

"Was that Angelina's voice?" Fred mouths to the other guys.

Lee nods, glancing at the door apprehensively. "This her dorm?"

"Must be."

"Look at her," Katie gasps, staring wild-eyed at Alicia. "She's practically _drunk."_

George shrugs, raising an eyebrow. "Could be Katie's," he mouths back.

"Chocolate does that to her," Angelina grins. "Did she tell you she isn't allowed to have it at home?"

Alicia nods somberly. "My mother forbids it."

"Let me guess," Katie says, suddenly grave, "it isn't _ladylike _to indulge your cravings."

"Bingo," Angelina snickers. "Man, I can't get over how much your home life _sucks_, 'Licia."

"Yeah … that makes two of us," Alicia says sadly, frowning at the half-empty box of truffles in her hands. Then, she shrugs her shoulders and smiles wide, adding, "But that's why they say _carpe diem_, right?"

"I think the more appropriate quote to justify your situation would be _what she know won't hurt her,_" teases Katie.

"Well, thank goodness I've got you girls," Alicia says, drawing a big breath, "to tolerate _and_ enable my chocolate mania, and do all the things my mother doesn't really do (but should), like, um, dragging me away from homework, or trying to set me up with Kenneth—"

Fred, Lee, and George exchange glances.

"_Towler_?" Lee mouths, looking bemused. "She fancies Towler?"

George thinks for a moment, looking faintly confused, then shrugs as though he'd expected something like it.

Fred shrugs in a similar, understanding fashion, and beckons for the boys to keep moving. They have work to do.

Unfortunately for him, they move out of earshot just as Angelina speaks up about the very thing he'd probably like to hear.

"While we're on the topic of boys," she tells the girls, looking suddenly furious, "_I _just want to add that Fred Weasley is a great, stupid _git_."

"Ooh, what's he done now?" Katie asks, leaning forward with anticipation.

"He's been flirting with me _non-stop _since he asked me to the Yule Ball, then this Hogsmeade weekend comes up and I keep thinking he's going to ask me but he _doesn't_!"

"Flirting _how_?" Alicia says suspiciously. "Maybe you're reading his signs all wrong."

"Let me spell it out for you," Angelina huffs. "He actually agrees to stay up late and do _Potions assignments _in the common room with me."

"_Wow_," Katie gasps, sincerely astounded. Even Alicia looks mildly impressed. "He's practically ready to make you the mother of his spawn."

"Oh, shut up," Angelina snaps, flushing and grinning. She throws a pillow at Katie for good measure, who lets it collide with the side of her face, laughing.

"Probably didn't want to break the tradition of visiting Hogsmeade with his brother and Lee," Katie suggests, shrugging.

"He's head over heels for you," agrees Alicia.

"Totally. Why else would he spend his evenings by the fire with you—"

"—actually _working _on his Potions assignments—"

"Um," Angelina interrupts, looking highly entertained, "_possibly _because we're past OWLs now and he'd probably like to graduate so that his mum doesn't end up disowning him?"

Alicia waves a hand dismissively. "That's just a bonus outcome of doing his work," she insists in a lofty voice. "Trust me, his true motive has very little to do with graduating."

Katie nods in agreement, a very serious look on her face.

Angelina shrugs. "I mean, we've been spending more time together since the Yule Ball but it's only been a month since then. I'm not expecting much."

"Yeah, but you've known each other for six _years_," Katie points out.

"That doesn't mean we've been close friends for six years," Angelina says.

"You've been pretty good friends," Alicia argues, "since you joined the Quidditch team in second year. I mean, you definitely get along better with the twins than I ever have."

"Yeah, you've got so much in common with them," Katie agrees.

"Gee, thanks," Angelina huffs. "So I'm loud, obnoxious, and troublesome?"

"No, of course not," Alicia assures her, smiling.

"Just loud and obnoxious," Katie says helpfully.

Alicia summons another Honeydukes bag from their pile by the foot of Angelina's bed and searches through it for chocolate. "_Yuck_, who bought Cockroach Clusters?" she demands.

"_Me_!" cries Katie, making a frenzied reach for the bag.

Alicia swivels to avoid the desperate grab. "Ugh, no, not in _my _dormitory," she says. "You will not consume these disgusting excuses for treats while you're under my roof, Katie Bell."

Katie rolls her eyes. "Well, _technically_ it's Dumbledore's roof—"

She's cut off with another pillow to the face.

* * *

The school days following the Hogsmeade weekends are always the longest and slowest.

On the Friday evening exactly one week after, George is left alone in the common room with nothing to do.

Well, he's not technically _alone _– the common room is full of people. Looking around, he sees some familiar faces – Brooke, Patricia and Lauren in the corner, Michelle and Greta over by the portrait-hole, Rese and Irina sitting on the steps leading up to the dormitories … huddled around the fire are Ron and his friends (but George won't go there, not unless he wants to be ambushed with questions again about whom he and Fred happen to be blackmailing).

He doesn't like flirting with pairs of girls without Fred with him, so he passes over all of them and his eyes land on lonely little Beth Copeland, seated at the table by the window and working hard on what is definitely a highly boring assignment. What a scarily perfect opportunity, he thinks.

George pushes himself off the loveseat and strides over to her, dropping into the chair beside her and leaning in close to see what she's writing.

Beth pulls back and stares at him, wide-eyed. "G-George?" she guesses, eyes flickering up and down his face. He can tell his nearness is making her slightly uncomfortable, which is exactly where he wants her. "What're you … doing?"

George ignores her question and runs his finger slowly – (_sensually_) – down her paper, skimming the words with fake interest. "This is pretty good," he remarks, as if he'd read any of it.

"I'm the top Charms student in our year," she announces proudly, smiling at the praise. "I should think it'd be pretty good."

George's mouth twitches, remembering a certain Chaser who would be horrified to have heard that just now, but he doesn't mention it.

"Yeah?" he says, grinning despite himself, and then adds, in a husky voice, "That's kind of hot, I guess."

Inwardly, George is laughing, because he doesn't mean it at all, and if Alicia (the _actual _top Charms student) were around to hear him say that, she'd dump a jug of water over his head, knowing perfectly well he doesn't think it's hot being the top Charms student. In fact, he finds it incredibly hilarious and dorky, as he's made very clear to her.

Thankfully, Beth Copeland doesn't know this, and appears to believe him wholeheartedly, if the redness of her face is any indication.

"Well," George mutters, making a fist and using his forearm on the table to push himself up to his feet. He never takes his eyes off her as he moves. "Better get going. Got some unfinished business with some uninteresting blokes... Maybe I'll see you around, 'top Charms student in our year'."

Beth blinks up at him, then opens her mouth and stammers, "Oh – I – my, um – i-it's Beth. Beth Copeland."

"Oh, I already _knew_ that," he winks. "Next time, better tell me something I don't know."

And with that, he turns and leaves her, blushing furiously in his wake. That's his rule for the first encounter with a female –short and sweet, and they fall at your feet. He's now confident Beth will initiate a conversation the next time he sees her.

This is _his _game. No one resists George Weasley, no one wins against George Weasley, no one can control or change George Weasley, no matter how much they like to think that possibility exists.

Once he's on the other side of the portrait hole, George shoves his hands in his pockets and saunters off in no particular direction, having lied about having any business at all. (It's the most important trick in the game: quit while you're ahead, leave her wanting more.)

He takes the stairs down to the sixth floor, then the fifth, then fourth, and when he steps off the staircase onto the third floor, he finds himself facing the Charms corridor. Remembering something, he stays on this floor, and follows the hall down to the familiar classroom at the end of it.

George finds the door unlocked, and doesn't bother to make his presence known this time. He simply pushes it open, soundless as he can, and slips inside. As predicted, Alicia Spinnet is here, but she's not sitting behind the teacher's desk this time; she has her back to the door, standing, hands placed on either side of something sitting on the table that she appears to be reading intently.

He sneaks up on her, keeping his footsteps silent and holding his breath.

Once he's directly behind her, he says in a strained whisper, "_Boo."_

He watches with the utmost pleasure as Alicia jumps nearly half a foot in the air and whirls around so fast her hair is _this close _to whipping him in the face. Eyes wide with panic and alarm, her arms catch the edge of the desk behind her and brace her – she looks a little weak-kneed – and she shrinks a little under his smirking face before she realizes who he is.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Alicia stares him in the eyes and says softly, "Aaahhh…"

George's smirk widens. "_Aaah_…?" he repeats, folding his arms across his chest. "Was that a whisper-scream?"

Alicia doesn't answer. She's still trying to regain her composure.

"Not to mention it's like five seconds too late," George continues.

Still, she says nothing in response.

"Oi, are you ignoring me?"

Alicia glares at him, straightening up. "I'm trying to normalize my heart rate, you terror," she snaps.

"Terror?" George repeats, grimacing. "That's a new one."

"What are you doing here?" she sighs, shaking her head and turning back to her book. She closes it, though, so he assumes she can't be expecting him to leave.

"I come bearing good news," he declares, stepping back and spreading his arms wide.

She turns to face him, eyebrow arched, arms crossed over her chest.

George shows her a full-on grin, lifting his arms a little higher in celebration. "I got an amazing grade on the Charms test!"

Alicia's mouth opens in surprise and delight, her arms slowly unfolding to make undefined gestures in front of her. "What – wow – that's – are you – really?"

"Yeah!" he says loudly, taking a stride forward and taking her waist in his arms. He hugs her tightly as he spins her around twice in the air, Alicia gripping his shoulderblades for dear life and biting her lip in uncertain happiness. "Thanks to _you_!"

Alicia lets out a long breath once she's back on the ground again, finding that George Weasley seems to have a habit of taking her by surprise.

"Whoo, um, that's lovely, George," she says calmly, nodding and swallowing and nodding and breathing and counting her heartbeats and still trying to breathe. "So – um – what'd you get?"

"For the written portion, I got Exceeds Expectations," he tells her, still grinning, and apparently choosing to ignore her unwound state.

Alicia smiles, still nodding dumbly, and says simply, "Brilliant. Good work. I'm glad you're happy."

He just drops into one of the students' seats, reclining in it so that it balances only on its hind legs.

Alicia moves to get to the teacher's chair, but she can't resist snickering and rolling her eyes. "He thinks _Exceeds Expectations _is an '_amazing grade'_," she scoffs to herself, amused.

"What was that?" George says dangerously from behind her.

Alicia freezes glances over her shoulder with a barely-contained smirk. "I didn't say anything … to you."

"Well," he says lowly, "I'm _so sorry _I can't be as _clever _as you, little miss." Then he's pushing his chair back onto four legs and hopping up onto the tabletop all in one smooth motion. He lingers there, gripping the edges of the desk and staring at her in a feral position, and Alicia takes a step back. "But you better take that back if you know what's good for you."

He's biting his lip, fighting a grin.

Alicia will never admit it to herself, but something about the wolfish way he's looking at her sets something off inside of her, and she suddenly finds she feels like giggling.

So she does.

She claps a hand to her mouth immediately after the first sound escapes, turning away from him but still laughing behind her palm, and George just scoffs out an amazed chuckle from behind her and then he _moves_. She _hears _it.

He leaps off the desk and comes for her, but with a short scream, she slips out of his reach and scurries around to the other side of the teacher's desk.

"Stay. Away," she says breathlessly, arms out and hands up. "No – wait – stop – I'm not—"

She whirls around and makes to run from him, but unfortunately steps right out of one of her shoes in doing so.

George summons it effortlessly before she can even dream of retrieving it herself, and as he pockets his wand he twirls the dainty little shoe in his hand with interest.

"Man, your feet are _tiny_," he observes, eyes twinkling as he holds it up and examines it.

"It's genetic," she protests weakly. "Give it here."

"Uh-uh," he smirks. "Too bad. No apology, no shoe."

Alicia huffs and shakes her head. "This is ridiculous."

"Not as ridiculous as you living life with just one shoe," he says cheerfully. "Soon they'll start calling you Single-Slipper Spinnet."

"Imaginative," Alicia snaps. "Are you implying I'm too broke to _ever _buy a new pair?"

"I'm waiting," he says, thoroughly enjoying himself. "It's really not that much of an ultimatum, dollface."

"Ho no," she breathes out, slowly smiling, "you _owe _me, Mr. Exceeds Expectations. You owe me _big time_. But I'll be gracious here – you can either give me back my shoe … _or _you can live the rest of your life giving me whatever I want."

George whips the shoe behind his back and takes a bounding step forward, grinning devilishly down at her. "Oh, something about _that _doesn't sound half bad," he whispers suggestively.

Alicia tilts her head to the side and groans.

George snickers and falls back, turning on his heel and opening his arms wide. "Whatever, I know it's Towler you fancy anyhow."

Alicia opened her mouth to deny it, then decided against it and looked at him disbelievingly. "Who told you?" she says weakly. (A troublemaker knowing _any _of your secrets … bad news. Bad news. Bad news.)

"We happened to be passing by that little party that took place in your dorm last weekend."

"Who's we?" demands Alicia.

"Fred, Lee, and myself," he says airily.

Alicia is, somehow, more concerned with the first name mentioned than anything else. "And what else did you guys hear?" she asks, cautious for her best friend's sake.

George looks thoughtful, then a sly smile comes over his face and he scratches the back of his head, pinning her with a knowing stare that makes her heart stand still. "That a certain _someone _is not, apparently, allowed to have _chocolate_." He pauses a beat, then adds, "Isn't that crazy?"

"Crazier than crazy," Alicia moans, grimacing and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It may not look like it, but it's tough being me."

He shakes his head at her, eyes laughing.

"Speaking of crazy and tough," she says calmly, leaning back against the edge of the teacher's desk, "where's your little entourage at tonight?"

"Entourage," he repeats, seemingly liking the word. "Well, they're both serving detentions, since they're a bit less crafty than yours truly."

Alicia studies him for a moment, then smiles slowly, saying, "Could you actually be … _disappointed _that you haven't got a detention yourself?"

George takes a second too long to pretend to think about it, and chooses not to confirm or deny it. He simply shrugs and jokes, "It may not look like it, but it's tough being me."

Alicia rolls her eyes. "Oh, you steal other peoples' lines, too? That is so like you."

George hops up to sit on the edge of one of the students' desks, folding his hands in his lap and smiling innocently at her. "Oh, please tell me how that's any worse than sneaking chocolate behind my mother's back."

Alicia glares at him.

"Such betrayal of trust I never did see," George continues, shaking his head sadly. "My heart goes out to Mrs. Spinnet. She must have no clue just how _treacherous _her pretty, innocent angel really is."

In spite of herself, the smallest of smiles tugs at her lips.

"Though I must admit," he says, suddenly grinning mischievously, "I think I kind of like the idea of rebel Alicia."

His voice has gone husky. Warning signals sound off in the back of her mind.

A trace of her alarm must have been detectable on her face, because he backs down, looking off toward the window and leaning back on his arms. "How about it, little lady? Wanna join me on the dark side?"

Alicia raises an eyebrow, staying silent.

"Come on," he smirks. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh boy," she breathes, shaking her head at him, though she can't quite hide her amusement entirely.

"Seriously. It'll be fun. Just one prank. You know you want to."

"In your dreams," she tells him, grinning.

He grins back, unfazed. "I'll make it happen," he says confidently.

"How are you always so cocky?" Alicia wonders.

George smiles brightly at her, shrugging his slumped shoulders. "Kind of comes naturally when you're seriously handsome, wicked brilliant, and irresistibly charming."

Alicia decides against making a remark about his modesty, and instead teases, "So what's a _dream_ like you doing chatting away your Friday evening in an empty classroom with someone like me? Are you off your game tonight or something?"

George arches an eyebrow. "Good point," he notes, nodding slowly. "Come on, let's head back to the common room so I can pick up where I left off with Cathy Mordell."

Alicia scoffs. "You go ahead."

"No, I'm serious. Let's go together. Come on, lock up or whatever it is you do."

"I'm serious too!" she laughs. "Just get out of here. I'll catch you later."

"Right, later then," he calls out, as he steps off the edge of the desk and strides out the door. Once it's shut, Alicia sighs and collapses back into the teacher's chair, feeling suddenly drained.

She hates to admit it but she actually has so much _fun _just snarking with that boy.

It's quarter to nine when she decides to head out of the classroom, having squeezed in a half-hour of Transfiguration revision. As she approaches the portrait hole on the seventh floor, she encounters Mia Forbes, returning from what looks to have been an intensive homework session in the library.

"You look so stressed," Alicia says sympathetically, patting Mia's shoulder. "It's a good thing tomorrow's Saturday; you can get lots of rest."

Mia shakes her head miserably. "Can't," she insists. "I've still got an entire Potions essay I haven't started on."

Alicia mentally thanks her lucky stars that her mother had not forced her to continue with Potions after OWLs.

As they climb into the portrait-hole, one after the other, Alicia notices that most of the students haven't gone to bed yet. Then again, this is the typical common room traffic for a Friday night.

A loud shriek suddenly draws the girls' attention over to the dormitory staircase, where Alicia immediately identifies George Weasley (who happens to be wincing) and an extremely upset Cathy Mordell.

"I almost feel bad for her," Mia whispers, "but all his victims _have _to have known what they're getting into with _him_."

Alicia thinks about her evening with George. There was something extraordinary about being around him – (dare she say _flirting _with him?) – because it makes her feel like she's having fun for the first time.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of see where they come from," Alicia muses quietly.

George then throws a hand up in the air in exasperation, saying, "Oh, come on, Mordell, did you seriously think I had feelings for you just because we kissed?"

Alicia glances sidelong at Mia, who looks appalled. "Forget I said anything," she murmurs.

Mia just shakes her head once more at the scene and crosses the common room to where her boyfriend, Clint, is struggling with opening an excessively sealed letter.

On her own, Alicia treads warily over to the staircase, intent on getting to her dormitory, but just as she approaches the disastrous George and Cathy, the latter bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands.

George looks at a loss for what to do. Alicia, as she passes, says in a smug whisper that only he can hear, "Off-game night?"

Without turning to look at her, he merely reaches behind him as she ascends the first step up the staircase and mercilessly musses her hair in what she _thinks _is supposed to be a semi-affectionate-semi-vindictive gesture. She looks back, smoothing down her hair, and catches a glimpse of the slightest of smirks on his face. Alicia wrinkles her nose down at him.

Unfortunately, Cathy Mordell chooses that moment to look back up from her hands and instantly shoots Alicia a fierce glare.

Alicia blinks and pauses on her way up the stairs, mildly surprised but mostly confused. Making a quick _oops _face at George, she turns right around and heads up to her dormitory without a backward glance.

* * *

The following day is Saturday. George spends it with Fred in the common room, devising another attempt at writing Bagman a letter that won't be blackmail.

"Let's hurry up, mate; Davies told us to meet him and the other guys down at the pitch by ten, and I _seriously _need to fly again—"

"What, you think I don't feel the same? I'd rather have Quidditch over this lousy Tournament anyday_…"_

"Okay, so how about _if you don't bring the gold, then—_"

"That's an obvious threat," George says thickly, tossing his quill down on the tabletop in frustration. "Try again."

"_We expect you to bring the gold_—"

"—right, that's not bad—"

"—_but if you fail to comply, we won't hesitate to take this one step further." _

"That's just stupid. He won't take it seriously."

"All I can think about right now is waging war," Fred grumbles. "Man, this guy really brings out the nasty in me."

George nods, looking mildly surprised. Fred has never been a particularly belligerent person, but he does seem to be more aggressive-minded lately.

"Doesn't help that Angelina has been kind of hot and cold around me all of a sudden," Fred continues darkly.

"How's that?" George asks in a murmur as he watches Angelina Johnson from across the common room. She's standing by the staircase, all dressed up and waiting for someone.

"I think," Fred says, "she's miffed I never asked her to Hogsmeade after all the flirting we did."

"Wasn't your fault," George tells him instantly. "Can't exactly take her on a proper date if you're flat broke."

"Yeah," Fred mutters. "Couldn't be helped. Too bad I can't even explain _that _to her, though."

"It's not like you've got any competition," George says helpfully. "She'll still be around."

"Not forever," says his twin. "That's why we've gotta get this done! Come on, man. Help me out here. _We expect you to bring the gold_…"

George isn't listening anymore. Something else has caught his attention. Angelina Johnson's companion has descended the staircase, and it's none other than her best friend, Alicia Spinnet. Her long hair is loosely plaited on one shoulder and her bangs fall into her eyes when she ducks her head and laughs at Angelina yelling at her. She's dressed in tight blue jeans and a white shirt, the epitome of simple and classy. Everything about her screams good girl.

"You guys are actually working on the weekend?" Angelina comments, as they pass by the twins' table. "Lo and behold, it's the miracle of March."

Fred glances up, looking beyond surprised that Angelina is voluntarily talking to him all of a sudden.

"Ladies," George greets slowly, glancing between Fred and the girls.

"Weasleys," Alicia says back, inclining her head slightly.

"It's – uh – not schoolwork," Fred clarifies, eyes locked on Angelina. "Private stuff."

"You heard him," George says, pursing his mouth in a tight smile. "Nothing to see here. Move along. This is a secret you can't know about."

Angelina gives him an odd look and turns to Fred, but Alicia glances sidelong at George and says, so quietly that the other two can't hear, "Those are my favorite _kind_ of secrets, though."

George narrows his eyes at her and bites his lip, fighting a smirk as he leans forward in his seat. He definitely isn't going to let it show, but that might have turned him on a bit just now.

"Where are you girls off to so early in the morning?" he asks casually.

Alicia lifts her chin slightly, thoughtfully touching her jawline with the fingers of one hand, unsmiling. "Wouldn't you like to know," she says in a lofty voice.

Somehow this turns him on even more. He lets his grin loose.

"What, going to study?" he guesses, looking highly entertained. "Meet your Charms Club?" Then, an idea strikes him, and he raises his eyebrow mockingly. "Got a little play-date with Towler?"

At that moment, Angelina audibly bids Fred goodbye and taps Alicia twice on the shoulder, turning around to leave and signaling her best friend to follow.

Alicia does so, but after her first step away from the table she looks back over her shoulder and, expression blank, slips out her tongue at him.

George continues staring with amusement even as she exits the common room with Angelina. Once she's out of the portrait hole, he leans back in his chair and rolls his eyes at the thought of Kenneth Towler.

He's always thought that guy was a prat.

* * *

TBC

_Review for more? :)_


	4. Party Planning

_If you have any specific non-canon pairings you'd like to see, please suggest it in a review! I'm open for anything; for now, I just go with canon pairings because GW/AS is my main focus, but other than that, I would consider writing crack. (:_

_**101olive4u **__and __**Mistress Cypress – **_as long as you continue to enjoy it I'll continue to write it. Thanks so much for your support!  
_**Guest – **_I thought about writing her blonde, since that's how _I _happen to picture her, but I think for now I'll just leave that question up in the air, and readers can see what they want to see. For now, all that I'll say about her hair is that it's long.

**DISCLAIMER: **Everything you recognize from the books belongs to Rowling.

* * *

**MARCH. **The next time George has Herbology, he's cornered by Beth Copeland as he heads back to the castle from the greenhouses alongside his classmates.

"Hi there," she says brightly, skipping to his side and falling into step with him. "Just finished Herbology?"

George stares at her from the corner of his eye, then nods slowly. "Were you … waiting for me?" he asks.

She glances up at him, looking as though she's afraid to give the wrong answer. "… Yes?"

He raises both his eyebrows and smirks, which almost instantly makes her giggle.

There are four things that George has come to realize about Beth Copeland.

Firstly, she has a _crap load _of friends. Everyone is Beth Copeland's friend. She's kind and hardworking and cute and there isn't a soul in their year who doesn't recognize her name.

Secondly, she studies. A _lot_.

Thirdly, she's coy. She likes to giggle and she blushes easily.

Fourthly, she's bubbly. She's here, and there, and everywhere, and she can chat with anyone and everyone about anything and everything. That's not a bad trait, he thinks, but sometimes it feels too … practiced. As though none of their conversations are _real_, just the same rehashed, polite crap that she might exchange with any other stranger.

Oh, and one last thing (make that five things, then). She's _predictable_. She's as easy to read as every other girl he's ever played – perhaps it's just because he's so good at this game, now – but he's already a bit tired of winning her attention because it happens so easily now and it no longer feels like a victory anymore, ever.

"So, where's your brother?" she asks him, hugging her books to her chest as they cross the grounds.

"Uh, he doesn't take Herbology," explains George.

"Oh, why is that?"

George keeps his eyes ahead even though he can feel hers on him. He leads them away from the castle doors, out into the courtyard where many students are grouped together to have lunch out on the grass. "Didn't get his OWL for it."

"Really?" Beth says, sounding too surprised to be sincere. "But Herbology isn't hard!"

He gets that she's just trying to keep the talk alive, but his fingers unconsciously clench into a fist at his side at the implication that Fred is too stupid to pass a seemingly easy course.

"It can be challenging," he says simply. "I had to work pretty hard to get my OWL for it."

"Yup. You've done well, then," she tells him. "Aren't you the top Herbology student in Gryffindor? I heard it from Roger."

George smirks again at the mention of Roger Davies, who currently holds the title of top Herbology student in Ravenclaw, as well as in their whole year.

"That bastard is ten times better than me at Herbology," he confesses, grinning. "My grade just comes from sweet-talking Sprout."

Beth looks up at him, smiling reproachfully. "You should just do your work," she says. "Even if she likes you already, she'll like you even more if you put in some effort. Who knows, then you might even be able to beat Roger."

George's grin falters at the advice, mostly because he's never liked being told what to do. "Come on," he says, scoffing, "it's not like beating Roger is my life goal."

She blinks, looking much more interested suddenly. "Oh, then what is?"

George hesitates. "Fred and I want to start a business," he tells her. "A joke shop."

Beth blinks again, then opens her mouth in mild awe. "Wow," she murmurs, looking honestly impressed. "I didn't think you guys were business-minded about your pranking, but that's really good."

He beams. "Well, thanks."

"Y'know, my parents want me to start a business, too," she says. "Don't tell anyone this, but … they even bought me a place in Hogsmeade. They're _that _keen about it."

"You're lucky," he smirks. "I'd do anything to have a place in Hogsmeade."

She doesn't even know how true that is. In fact, unbeknownst to her, she's part of a live demonstration, taking place right at this very moment.

"I'd love to find a way out of it," she laughs. "That's not what I want to do at all!"

George fakes interest. "Then what do you want to do?"

"Nope, I'm not telling you yet!" she exclaims, looking thrilled at her own evasiveness.

George is mentally baffled by her behavior but says nothing of it. He just plays along. "Right, then, what if I extend a _special invite _to a party that my brother and I are throwing this Friday?"

"What party?"

"Well, it's our birthday this Thursday, actually – April Fool's – but we're going to get some guys and girls together for some fun the night after."

"Oh! That does sound fun," she squeals, clasping her hands together in front of her. "And what's this about a _special invite_?"

He raises an eyebrow and smiles tight-lipped down at her.

Beth giggles, retreating into a shrug. "Is it what I think it is?"

George steps around in front of her, continuing to smirk in her face. "And what do you think it is?"

She bites her lip and lowers her eyes, mumbling, "To go … as … likeyourgirlfriend?"

In the beat of silence that follows, George has to hold back from snickering at how terribly easy she is. Wait until he tells Fred.

He turns his head to the side and glances sidelong at her, cocking a brow and grinning. "Why not?" he says coolly.

_Step 1: get the girl. _Check.

* * *

Fred and George remain in high spirits throughout the week, planning the show of pranks they intend to perform on the day of their birthday, April Fool's. Every year is an extremely well-received, meticulously prepared success and they don't like to disappoint.

"Oh," Fred says suddenly, looking up from their preparations, "I, uh, invited Angelina to our birthday party."

George freezes for a fraction of a second, then goes back to work. "Sure, whatever. I invited Beth Copeland."

"I know," Fred huffs, "but that's because you guys are playing the couple now. Are you _seriously _okay with Angelina being there? It's usually just our group of tight friends."

"She's a friend," George shrugs.

"Be honest, mate."

George sets down the thing he's tinkering with and gives Fred a pointed look. "Listen, I'm telling you it's _fine_. If you don't want me to be fine with it, just say so, and I'll change my mind."

"Hoo, okay, testy," Fred whistles, lifting his hands in surrender.

"Why're you so worried about me, anyhow? It's not like I've got a problem with Angelina, and it's not like she's a nightmare to have around. Even if she were, that'd be your problem, since you're the one who fancies her."

Fred's ears heat up, but he just swallows and looks down at his tools, saying, "Well, yeah, that's the thing. I'd want her and my twin to get along, because, you know, you're my twin."

George snorts. "Articulate," he comments.

"Stuff it," Fred snaps.

"Yeah, I'm fine with it," George says again, sensing that Fred needs some extra reassurance. He's never perceived anyone, any girl – let alone Angelina – as a threat, because nothing can come between them. Their bond runs far deeper than blood.

"You know what, why don't we just make it something less private?" Fred suggests suddenly.

"How do you mean?"

"Like, a small bash or something. Invite more people. Not just our friends, but our friends' friends. Have some celebration. Kids from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor."

George thinks about it. "Hey, that'd be new," he says slowly. "Haven't had a really _good _one around here since Harry's last task, and I bet we can top that with this one."

"Right?" Fred tosses aside his materials and stands up. "Come on, let's go get the word out."

George gets to his feet, calmly setting down his work on his nightstand and cracking his neck. "Alright, then. Guess I'll take care of Hufflepuffs."

"Oi, no, what about Ravenclaw?" Fred asks. "Don't make me go there, they all look at me like I'm some kind of retarded frog."

"Don't make _me _go there," George argues. "I have to spend enough time faking my love for their Queen, which is possibly a _life mission_, and you're _still _asking things from me?"

Fred, looking increasingly guilty, ducks his head and grumbles his way out of the dormitory.

"Hey," George calls out after his twin, grinning widely, "don't forget to remind people to come bearing gifts."

Fred looks at him soberly, then barks out a laugh and enters the common room.

George heads straight for the portrait-hole, leaving Fred to handle the remaining Gryffindors, wandering the halls in search of any stray faces he can rope into attending.

"Hey," calls out a voice from ahead, and George looks up to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"Just the itsy bitsy kiddies I was hoping to find," George simpers, twiddling his fingers evilly under his chin.

"Are you Fred? Or George?" asks Harry, grinning.

George drops his hands, contemplating whether or not he should lie or make them guess, but then decides that he should be using his time efficiently and simply says, "George. Swear on my mum's grave."

Ron raises his eyebrows but doesn't test him. "Where're you going?" he asks. "And where's Fred?"

"Tut, tut, tut," George says disdainfully, shaking his head and looking down at his little brother. "Too many questions … The only thing you can expect to get out of me tonight is a message I've got for the three of you."

"A message?" Hermione says, blinking. "From who?"

"From me," he winks. "You three are cordially invited to a mild social gathering hosted by myself and Fred, in honor of our seventeenth birthday, this Friday night."

"Mild social gathering?" Hermione repeats, crossing her arms.

"Yes," George says, looking gravely serious, "otherwise defined as _unsupervised wild blowout_."

"I don't—"

"Let's go," Ron says eagerly, to Harry and Hermione. "It sounds fun."

Harry looks equally keen, but Hermione still looks dubious.

"We'll be breaking curfew, won't we?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron sighs. "It's not like we haven't broken curfew doing _far worse _and more _dangerous _things than partying, like _every single year_."

"Yeah, we'll be there," Harry answers, before Hermione can protest. "Who else is going?"

"Mostly sixth-years," George admits, unapologetically. "Davies and Diggory will probably be there, too, and some of their mates, so you'll know some of the blokes from Quidditch, Harry. Fred invited Angelina, so if I catch Bell or Alicia, I'll get them to come, too."

Harry looks mildly relieved, but Ron and Hermione exchange glances.

"Students from other Houses are coming?" Hermione says. "So … where is it?"

George merely winks and waves them off. "Secret classroom. We'll give you the details the day before. Ta-ta, teeny tots."

The next person George encounters is a pair of Hufflepuffs who he recognizes as Diggory's friends. He invites them, too, despite having never even exchanged more than two words with either.

"Oi, before you go," George calls out. "Have either of you seen Fred?"

"I think he's down by the Entrance Hall talking to some Ravenclaws," offers one of the students as they wave goodbye.

George heads on down to the first floor, but before he can make his beeline for the Entrance Hall, he's interrupted by the door to the Hospital Wing opening.

It opens slowly, very slowly, at first, then all at once, and a familiar figure slips out, letting the door fall quietly back into place behind her. He watches with piqued curiosity as she takes a breath, straightens up and begins walking at a perfectly normal pace away from the infirmary.

A Cheshire-cat grin forming on his face, George slinks up behind her and taps her twice on the opposite shoulder.

She doesn't fall for it, turning instead to look at him right where he is, beside her.

"_Nice _try," she says, smiling faintly, without even breaking pace.

George simply continues to grin at her. "So," he says casually, "what stunt did you pull just now?"

Alicia tilts her head so that her hair falls behind her shoulder. "I don't know what you're talking about," she tells him.

"I think you," George says, unperturbed, "just stole some chocolate from the Hospital Wing."

From the quick aversion of her eyes, George knows he's hit the nail on the head.

He lets out a laugh. "You thief," he says, nudging her lightly.

"You bully," she grumbles, pushing his arm away.

His brief exchanges with Alicia Spinnet have been nothing but straight surprises, every time. Lately he's been learning quite a bit about her, starting with the fact that there's more to her than the princess that's all most people (including himself, up until three months ago) get to see.

Lately he's been finding that while she might not react in the same flirty or fierce way typical for most girls, she's still quite good at not taking things too seriously – something he hadn't expected, but is easily earning his respect.

"C'mon, share."

"No." Alicia looks at him like he's crazy. "My hard-earned loot is mine to enjoy."

George rolls his eyes. "Fair," he relents. "Next time I'll go pillaging with you. _Then_ can I have some of the plunder?"

Alicia sighs. "Perhaps. You can have it once I'm tired of it."

"Which is, what, never?"

"Precisely."

"Hey, you know where you can get _tons _of chocolate?" he asks, grinning once more.

"Where?" she demands.

"At a party, Friday night. Courtesy of yours truly and my brilliant brother."

"Let me guess," Alicia says, "in celebration of the aging of two troublesome teenage twins."

"Hey, I like that," George smirks. "Maybe that'll be the tagline."

"But note," Alicia adds matter-of-factly, "that _aging _does not necessarily mean _maturation._"

George feigns a look of hurt. "And just to clarify," he says, eyes wide, "you say _I'm _the bully."

Alicia's mouth twitches in a reluctant smile.

"I saw that," he says giddily. "You smiled. Game over, you lose. You're coming."

"Game over?" she repeats, mouth opening in indignation. "What game? We never made any rules."

"Don't need 'em," he winks. "I'd break them all, anyway."

"Unsportsmanlike conduct," she huffs.

George chuckles at her.

"Well, you lost, so if you don't come, _you'll _be a _cheater_, and _that's _unsportsmanlike," he points out.

Alicia shakes her head at him. "Some game this is," she says, though she sounds amused. "I don't even know how to play."

George notes that Alicia is unexpectedly cool and accepting about his antics. He's not sure whether to brand her as closed-off or open-minded. And for this strange reason, he feels oddly comfortable talking to her. As though he can tell her anything because she'll believe it calmly, yet she'll keep it to herself, due to her exclusive manner.

"I'll guide you through it," he offers confidently. "First step – go to twins' awesome birthday party. Oh, and by the way, gifts are not optional."

Alicia rolls her eyes. "Since it's you? I kind of figured."

He ignores her jab and continues, "If you complete your first mission satisfactorily, you will be rewarded with … wait for it … chocolate! Hooray!" Upon the big reveal, he lifts his hands and waves his fingers about childishly.

Alicia looks away, saying nothing.

George waits patiently at first, but then begins to wonder whether she's ticked off.

"Hey. Did you hear me? I said chocolate."

He taps her shoulder.

"Oi."

Silence.

"Chocolate Frogs?" he corrects.

Still nothing. However, she does tilt her head ever so slightly, though not in his direction.

"Chocolate-covered pumpkin truffles?" he persists, to which she purses her lips thoughtfully.

Getting closer, he thinks.

"Chocolate-covered Towler?" he tries.

Alicia stops walking all of a sudden and George notices the slightest trembling of her shoulder just before she leans back her head and laughs, laughs so much and so long that eventually her knees bend slightly and she stumbles back a few steps to regain her balance.

_Is that cute? _he wonders, smirking at her, but then decides, _No, it is. _

Watching her, George thinks laughing Alicia, with her crinkled eyes and the scrunched nose and the foremost teeth showing, is somehow quite amazing. For just a moment, shivers run through his fingers at the knowledge that _he_ elicited this laugh, and though he's always loved laughs, he thinks this one possibly beats them all, because it's coming from sophisticated, composed Alicia.

This laugh makes him feel really … special.

"Well, I'm glad that didn't offend you," he says sarcastically, still watching her with entertained eyes.

Alicia's breathing has normalized and she waves a hand dismissively in front of her face. "Why should I be offended?" she smiles. "Chocolate and Prince Charming all at once – how's it get better than that?"

George shows a wolfish grin when he realizes she's honestly not upset at all with him. "If it weren't Prince Charming, but me," he suggests, his voice deliberately husky.

Alicia just smiles it off lightly (she's good at that, he's noticed), because he's a natural philanderer and she knows that _he _knows that she's not his type of hit-it-and-quit-it girl.

"Honeydukes' _best _chocolate?" she says, enunciating each syllable meaningfully.

It takes George a second to remember what topic they'd been on, but then he nods cheerily. "Fine. Just for you. I'll make sure there's Honeydukes' _best _chocolate."

"Is that out of your way?" she demands, cocking an eyebrow at him.

George shrugs. "I don't know," he says, mockingly pitiful, "I've lost my way."

Alicia swats him. "Tell me seriously."

"Doesn't matter," he assures her. "I'll be making a trip to Hogsmeade to get some Firewhiskey for Davies, too, so it is most definitely _part _of the way."

"I can reimburse you," she offers.

"Don't worry 'bout it, sunshine," he grins, shaking his head. "I got you covered. You pay with your attendance, understand?"

Alicia looks at him curiously. "What am I even going to do at a party full of _your _friends?" she wonders.

"Hey, you pretty much agreed to come already, no going back," he warns. "Angelina's coming, and a few other kids from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. You could even bring Golden Boy cupcake lover, I don't care. You two can get sloppily drunk and snog in a corner and just fill up space or something, you guys figure it out. That's your problem."

By _Golden Boy cupcake lover, _she assumes he means Kenneth.

Alicia wrinkles her nose at the idea of getting sloppily drunk and snogging in a corner. "So I'm a space-filler," she clarifies, pretending to look thoroughly unimpressed with him. "And a gift-dispenser? Well played, Weasley. You've properly convinced me that my presence will be very much appreciated at this event."

George laughs. "Princess," he murmurs, pressing her scrunched-up nose.

"Whatever," Alicia says, brushing off his finger with a light shake of her head. "Tell me what kind of gift you want, then."

He makes a face like _how would I know _and chuckles, "Surprise me." Then, spinning on his heel, he adds, "Angelina's got the details. I better see you there."

Alicia doesn't miss a step as she continues walking away from him, half-heartedly lifting a hand in parting.

Once George is out of sight, Alicia reaches inside her cloak and removes the chocolate she nicked from the Hospital Wing.

She takes a bite, contemplating the news while she savors the bittersweet flavor.

_A party, huh? _

Admittedly, there have been far fewer parties than usual this year at school – one for each task, to be exact. Typically there are a few more, due to Quidditch victories and the occasional fling for no reason.

_It could be fun._

Alicia licks some melted chocolate off her lips.

_No, it will be fun. It's those two, after all._

She takes the first staircase she sees, which looks like it'll take her directly to the third floor.

_Now … about that gift. _

Nope, it'll actually be the fourth floor. Bonus!  
_What can you possibly buy for two ambitious teenagers who can make everything they dream up with their own hands?_

Now, a staircase that'll lead to the seventh floor …

_It's too late to buy something from Hogsmeade though._

That arse. Inviting her to a party that's just days away. Then he has the nerve to demand a gift?

_Forget that, I'm not spending any money on these eggheads. They break everything they touch._

Alicia takes another bite of her chocolate as she ascends the first step of the stairwell headed to Gryffindor Tower.

_Who cares if he hates me for it … life is probably safer without those two, anyhow. _

Before Alicia can think another thought, a figure appears at the top of the staircase, looking down at her.

"Alicia?"

She looks up to see Kenneth Towler, hazel eyes glinting in the dim light of the torches on the walls around them.

"Kenneth," she says, licking her lips clean of chocolate once more. "What're you up to?"

He gestures behind him to the portrait-hole. "Just came from the library," he explains. "Had to get started on that Transfiguration essay we've got."

Alicia steps off the last step and, exactly two seconds after, the staircase swivels to relocate to another landing.

"Right, I've got to get on that, too," she sighs, realization coming upon her. "Especially if I want to party on Friday night."

A pause.

"Wait," Kenneth says slowly, "you mean the Weasleys' party?"

Alicia blinks, remembering that she's been permitted to invite him.

"Oh," she says, eyes wide, "you know about it? Then hey, I was wondering –"

At this moment, one of the twins strides up to the portrait, glancing between Kenneth and Alicia as he approaches the Fat Lady.

"This bloke was just in the library," Kenneth chuckles. "Slinking around like a ferret, telling everyone about it."

Alicia brightens, brandishing her chocolate, and says, "Don't you mean slinking around like a _weasel?_" she jokes.

The twin behind Kenneth cocks a brow at her as if to say _really? _and then, "That was terrible. I'm highly insulted." He turns from Alicia to Kenneth and adds, "And you're mistaken, I was most definitely not the bloke slinking around the library tonight." Upon this declaration, he glances at Alicia, and gives her a wink so fast and surreptitiously she wonders if she imagined it.

She assumes that means he's George, not Fred, because Fred Weasley would probably not bother to loiter outside the portrait-hole with her and Towler, let alone wink at her.

Without another word, George lets himself into the common room, disappearing behind the Fat Lady.

"So," Kenneth says, once he's gone, "you're going to that party, then?"

Alicia absently wraps up the rest of her chocolate and tucks it away into the folds of her cloak once again. "Yes – I mean, probably …"

"Well, I guess they _are _your teammates and close friends."

She refrains from mentioning that despite being teammates, she hardly thinks the twins consider her a close friend. She nods and shrugs and lets him believe what he likes.

"Do you maybe, uh, want to go … together?" he asks.

His voice is perfectly casual but the slightest bit hopeful. His sandy hair is perfectly combed and he's got clear, light eyes she can trust. The smile he wears is innocent and positive.

So very different, she speculates, from the other face she's been looking into all evening, with the red hair that's had hands (and not just his own hands) run through it, the dark eyes that are unreadable and dangerous, the mirthful smirk that knows every trick, whether it concerns words and wit or female lips.

"Sure, I'd love to," she tells Kenneth.

She's got a good feeling about this guy.

* * *

George steps into the common room to find Fred and Lee already together, over by the fire.

"That took awhile," Fred notes, looking up as George approaches. "I didn't tell you to invite the whole school."

"I actually only got to a few people," George explains. "Ran into Alicia Spinnet, she took a bit of convincing, so that held me up awhile."

"Alicia Spinnet?" Lee repeats.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Fred says dubiously. "What'd you go and invite her for?"

George drops into the seat beside Lee. "She's alright," he says casually. "She's Angelina's best friend. I thought you'd be cool with it."

"No, I am," says Fred. "Just never took her for the type to party like we do."

"She can go and do her own thing," George shrugs. "Think she and Towler are going together, so … yeah."

"Speaking of going together," Fred says, smirking, "did you remember to invite your new conquest?"

George rolls his eyes. _She's actually more of __**your**__ conquest, _he thinks ruefully to himself, but smiles lightly and says, "Yeah, get this. _She _was the one who suggested she come as my girlfriend."

Lee Jordan bursts out laughing. "Oh, that's bloody brilliant!" he exclaims, clapping his hands gleefully. "And she told _Stretton _that she hadn't got time for a relationship! Remember?"

Fred joins in, just as enthusiastically, and George snickers out of friendly pity for his fellow Quidditch player.

"Enough about women," George grins, moving his hand dismissively. "Come on, let's finish up our birthday pranking itinerary. Tomorrow's the big day."

Fred matches his grin with a much more mischievous one, compliantly producing the piece of parchment from inside his cloak. "Got it here, chief."

"So, who's on the hit-list?" asks Lee, leaning forward with excitement. He reads off the names, one by one, then stops at one name near the bottom. "Wait – what's this one? Is that Andy Thornton? Didn't he graduate with Oliver?"

Fred's ears turn pink. "It's not Andy," he mutters.

"No, it's not," George smirks, peering over Lee's shoulder and decoding Fred's scrawl. "It's _Angie _… Johnson." Glancing up at his twin, he raises his eyebrow curiously. "Are you sure, mate? I mean, I know you fancy her and all, but …"

"… maybe that's not the best idea," Lee finishes in agreement.

"Oi, let's go for Davies this year," George says suddenly, grinning with anticipation. "I've got a brilliant idea on how we're gonna get that bastard good."

"Aw, that's not fair," Lee protests. "You've got Herbology with him. We want to be in on this, too."

"We'll get him during break," Fred compromises. "That alright, bro?"

George shrugs, smirking as another idea forms in his head. "Yeah, that's perfect," he tells them, earning a puzzled look from Lee, which he ignores.

He's just thought of someone else he can prank during Herbology, whose name just might rhyme with Howler.

* * *

TBC

* * *

_How is it so far? Are you enjoying? Please leave a review! _

_Suggestions/comments/questions all welcome._


	5. Birthday Surprises

Thanks for being patient, guys! I know how hard it is to wait for a new chapter. Welcome back, and welcome to any new readers. There's a bit of a note at the end, so please don't forget to leave without giving it a once-over, and dropping me your thoughts!

**DISCLAIMER: **What'sRowling's is Rowling's.

* * *

**APRIL. **Thursday, April 1. The day is like a joyous release for the Weasley twins, who have been holding back from pranking since the beginning of the week in order to make this occasion all the more spectacular.

It starts with Fred and Lee's orchestrated explosion in Potions, followed by all three of them flawlessly executing a mass canary transformation of their entire Charms class. Pranking in Professor Moody's class is avoided altogether – for obvious reasons – and their plan to sneak powder into Roger Davies' lunch that makes him unwittingly speak in an invented language goes off without a hitch.

"So what're you two getting up to during your free period?" George asks Fred and Lee, as the three of them plus Roger Davies and Duncan Inglebee cross the grounds toward the greenhouses.

Fred and Lee exchange glances and shrug innocently.

"Maybe we'll go down to the library," Fred says brightly.

"Study a bit, and relax," pipes Lee.

"Ooh, and write that Potions essay!"

"And reflect on our actions during this morning's class, absolutely!"

Duncan rolls his eyes at the pair. "I'm surprised Snape didn't toss you nutters into his cauldron and boil you alive," he remarks.

"Askof du _nantan _lup?" says Roger.

Duncan immediately looks quizzical at the sound of the gibberish, and looks quickly to the twins, who both grin impishly and wink, while Lee presses a finger to his lips.

By the curiosity in Roger's tone, Fred assumes that he's asking what Snape _did _punish them with.

"A week's detention," he says confidently and unhesitating, as though he'd understood Roger perfectly. "Starting this Monday."

"What? That's it?" Duncan says, astonished.

"Oh, no, that's not it," Lee scoffs. "An essay, just for the two of us, explaining why we did what we did while being fully aware of the hazards of what we did."

"So basically," George muses, "an essay explaining your own stupidity."

Roger snorts.

"Oi, don't forget the hundred-and-fifty points taken from Gryffindor," Fred adds, sounding the slightest bit sour at last.

He and Lee fall behind to turn around and head back to the castle while George and other Ravenclaws and Gryffindors go on ahead to Greenhouse Seven. Professor Sprout introduces the lesson with a brief blurb about the specimens they'll be studying.

"—but I trust you have already reviewed this chapter in your textbooks before the lesson," she concludes, glancing over her protective eyewear at the students expectantly. She receives scattered nods from Gryffindors, and earnest affirmation from the Ravenclaws.

"Did you guys read the chapter?" Duncan asks, sounding a bit frantic.

"Banka, naz dur," Roger mutters, grinning. George presumes this means something along the lines of _obviously, you dolt._

"Sure did," George says confidently.

He receives skeptical looks from both Ravenclaws, which he ignores. Let them misjudge him – he _is _prepared for this class. Or rather, for this _prank._

Pursing her lips in satisfaction, she declares, "Alright then, put on your dragon-hide gloves and let's get started."

The class complies.

"Once you are ready, you may begin your sap extraction," Sprout says, and immediately half the class picks up their tools and gets to work.

George obediently follows the procedure for the first half-hour, then takes his collection vial and deliberately smashes it against the countertop.

"Oops," he says, unapologetic, as half a dozen pairs of eyes turn in his direction. "My bad. Think I need a new one."

He gets up from his work bench and crosses the room over to the cabinets where Sprout keeps her spare vials, taking his time selecting a replacement. While he pretends to inspect the various vials for no particular reason, his free hand is roaming within the inner folds of his robes, feeling around for his specially prepared prank.

Finally, his fingers close around it - a perfectly round seed, the color of mud and the size of his thumbnail. It feels full of water, contracting easily at the slightest pressure applied from his fingertips. George lets it roll into the depths of his palm like a fragile object, not daring to press on it too hard.

"Oi, Weasley, get back here already," Duncan Inglebee calls out from their work bench. "Your plant's excreting this disgusting _stuff_."

Before George can answer, Sprout cuts in, saying, "Nothing to worry about, Mr. Inglebee, that's only pus. The only deadly venom lies within the sap sac at the foot of the stem, which is what you will retrieve from your extraction by the end of the class."

Nevertheless, George shuts the cabinet door and begins heading back to his plant.

As he weaves across the room, he takes a purposefully longer pathway, so that he can cross in front of Towler's work bench.

He paces himself according to Towler's actions. While he's working, George slows down. While he turns to talk to his pals, he speeds up a bit. He successfully manages to wind up passing right in front of Towler's plant just as the bloke has his head navigated away from it, glancing over his shoulder at Clint Hilbrandt who is showcasing the bloody cut he's just received on the back of his hand.

"Oi, better get that checked—" Towler is saying.

George slips the seed onto Towler's plant, not looking to see where it ends up exactly.

He walks leisurely back to Duncan and Roger and slides into his seat, picking up his trimmers and adjusting his eyewear. "Where are you at?" he asks casually.

Roger ignores him, currently in the intensive process of torching away the mildly toxic arrangement of thorns that shield the lower half of the stem. George knows immediately that he's near the final step.

Duncan peers over at his own textbook. "Uh, page three-hundred-eighty-nine," he says. "Extraction stage three." He glances over at Roger. "I think Roger's already on stage four."

"Son of a bitch," George sighs. "Better get caught up, then."

He gets through extraction stages two and three fairly easily, with some guidance from Duncan, and by the time the pair of them are ready to begin torching, Roger has completed the entire task and submitted his venom to Sprout.

She frowns at him. "I explicitly told you to wait for my instruction on how to handle the sap sac," she reminds him, "but then again, you seem to have executed the extraction perfectly, so … well done, Mr. Davies."

Roger beams, then pretends to tip an invisible cap in her direction. "Margel lur, bonden."

Sprout stares.

George and Duncan share a snicker as they light their torches.

"Some of you," Sprout says, raising her voice and dismissing Roger, "may be approaching extraction stage five, where you are required to puncture the sap sac. You must do so with a pin dipped in Murtlap Essence, which will deter the plant from activating its inflammatory defensive response and release a toxic gas into the air. If you are hesitant _at all _about puncturing the sac, please ask for assistance."

George is hardly listening as he melts off the last of the thorns off his stem.

Stage five, he acknowledges in his head. He carefully reaches over behind Duncan, whose torch is still burning and held to his plant, and takes the tiny bottle of Murtlap essence from Roger's place on the work bench.

Before he can even prepare his pin, however, a resounding _splat! _and accompanying shriek fills the greenhouse.

"_AAAAAHHHCCCKKK!"_

Torches – including Duncan's – fizzle out from the faltered concentration, while others like George merely look up from their benches.

Professor Sprout drops her watering can onto the floor.

Kenneth Towler, rising shakily to his feet, is covered from head to toe in a dark brown, viscous liquid.

"Oh Godric, oh Godric, oh Godric," he splutters, frantically wiping the thick fluid away from mouth with his equally goop-covered hands. "Professor – am I going to die?"

Professor Sprout rushes over to Towler's bench, screaming, "_Nobody touch him! Move away from Mr. Towler!" _

Clint, Mia, and Douglas Dalton all shift their stools a few inches away from Towler, then decide to stand up and scurry across the room to certain safety.

Sprout comes up next to Towler, panic all over her expression, blinking rapidly as she considers various courses of action.

"Mr. Towler, what did you do?" she asks, and George can see that she's trying very hard to remain calm. He almost feels bad for what he's done – pray she doesn't have a stroke.

"GERITOFF ME," Towler bellows, gurgling somewhat as some of it enters his mouth. "I'M GOING TO BE POISONED—"

Sprout's eyes flicker to the plant he was working on, then freezes and narrows her eyes at the thick, muddy liquid still dripping from its leaves.

"This …" she frowns, leaning in close and inspecting it. She takes a cautious sniff as the rest of the students look on with anticipation and alarm.

Duncan nudges George hard in the ribs, then raises his eyebrows and jerks his head towards Towler in question.

George merely shrugs in response, though his smirk can't help but give away the truth.

His friend rolls his eyes and turns back to the scene, but chuckles at it anyway.

"I think …" Sprout says slowly, straightening up with an expression of wonder and confusion, "this is … _chocolate_."

Kenneth Towler pauses in his frantic attempts to shake the goop off his skin onto the ground, mouth trembling slightly as it drops open in bewilderment.

"Look," Sprout continues, to no one in particular, "your plant's sap sac is intact, It's right here." She lifts up a limp, greenish-brown leaf to reveal the bulbous venom sac, throbbing lightly, at the foot of the stem. "You must have punctured something else."

Clint Hilbrandt bravely swipes some goop off of Towler's wrist and touches it to the tip of his tongue.

He breaks into a grin. "Yeah, this is definitely chocolate," he confirms.

Sprout draws a magnificent sigh and rolls her neck as though she's had a long day. "Let's get you cleaned up, Mr. Towler," she says tiredly, shaking her head. "We haven't got much time. Everyone else, if you haven't yet punctured your sac, _carefully _follow the instructions on page two-hundred-eighty-six in your text on how to administer the Sleeping Lotion onto your plant and package it away. We'll finish the sap extraction next class."

Duncan looks over at George as they walk the few steps back to their bench, seeming impressed. "Amazing," he mutters. "You didn't even get in trouble for it."

"Oh, I bet she knows it was me," George grins.

"Watch yourself," Duncan laughs. "One day you'll abuse her leniency too much."

"Hey, I know where the line is," George protests lightly.

After Herbology ends, George heads back to the castle for his free period while Duncan crosses the grounds to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures.

Good news greets George when he finds Fred and Lee in the Great Hall for afternoon tea.

"Guess what we did during your Herbology class," Lee says, looking proud.

"Pranked McGonagall?" George tries, eyes alight with dreamy longing.

"Hell no," Fred snorts, passing his brother the pitcher of pumpkin juice. "We'd be in the ground by now if we tried to make _that_ happen."

"We took a trip down to Hogsmeade," Lee reveals. "And—"

"What, without me?" George says absently, as he pours himself a drink.

"Yeah, sorry," Fred smiles. "Snape was supervising the grounds so we had to get away for a bit."

"Anyhow, we got hooked up with drinks for the party," Lee finishes.

"By _hooked up_, you mean—"

"You got it," winks Fred. "_Completely free_."

"No way," George says skeptically, shaking his head. Then, "Who?"

"Rosmerta," Fred says, grinning like an idiot. "Let it slip that it was our birthday, and they came on the house."

"No way," George repeats, incredulously this time. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Get this – she gave us some Firewhiskey too," Fred tells him gleefully. "Said it was only proper that we celebrate our seventeenth with legal drinking."

"Davies'll be pretty chuffed about that," Lee adds.

Their conversation is interrupted by a familiar voice a few seats down the table exclaiming, "DOOSH!"

Several heads turn in the direction of Clint Hilbrandt, who is very animatedly in the midst of telling a story to Alicia Spinnet and Dana Erlton.

"He got it _all over_," Clint was saying cheerfully. "Like, _head to toe_. Thick like bogies, dripping off of him. He was dead scared, we all thought he'd gone and gotten the poisonous stuff everywhere."

George swats Lee on the shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Clint. "Oi, you guys. Listen to this."

"So he freaks out, right, screaming his head off and being barking mad about the whole thing, and Sprout comes running over, looking so terrified that she makes everyone else just _freeze_—"

Fred's eyes widen, realization dawning. "You did this?" he mouths across the table to his twin, who only raises his eyebrows suggestively in response and smiles.

"Nobody moves, like at all, while she's thinking about what to do – oh, but wait, he's still panicking out of his mind though – but then she starts looking closer at his plant, and she _smells _this bogey-ish stuff that's on it, and then – then she says, 'I think it's _chocolate_'."

"Shut _up_," Dana Erlton says dramatically. "_Chocolate_? How?"

Alicia Spinnet sits up a little straighter, wrinkling her brow in thought.

"I don't know!" Clint laughs, leaning back and shrugging his shoulders. "I saw it too, it was a sac, it looked pretty much exactly like what we were supposed to be finding, right? So Kenneth went and popped it open, and … well … guess it wasn't."

George's eyes dart over to Alicia Spinnet, who looks as though she's only half-paying attention to Clint. She has her chin resting on her fist and the ghost of a smile on her lips as she listens.

He keeps his eyes on her a few moments more, waiting for her to notice him. In the background, he vaguely hears Dana asking where Towler is, and Clint explaining that he's in the showers.

After what seems like too long, Alicia's blinks her blue eyes over to meet his.

George tilts his head and cracks his neck, rubbing it as he does so in a very self-satisfied way.

He recognizes the knowing look she wears, the contained amusement. Then, the hand under her chin unfolds to cover the lower half of her face as she very obviously breaks into a smile behind it.

George grins, very faintly, and winks at her, then turns back to Fred and Lee before either can come to notice anything.

* * *

"All done." Alicia stares proudly at the words written below her. "Gee, I thought this essay would be a lot harder."

"That's good, though, right?" Patricia Stimpson says, not glancing up from her own work. "Then you can go to the twins' party without worrying about your homework."

"You'll be done in time, too, right?" Alicia says hopefully, leaning across the table to scrutinize her friend's parchment. "You're only about two inches short."

"Yes, but I'm running out of things to say," Patricia frowns.

Just then, a textbook drops onto the table between them. "Hi, girls," says a very, _very _drained voice from above.

The pair look up as Angelina takes a seat at the table, leaning all the way back in her chair and letting her head loll over the edge in exhaustion.

"What's got you so lively?" Alicia asks sarcastically.

"I walked _all the way to Hogsmeade and back_," moans Angelina. "Under the sun. At high noon."

"Is that why you skived Divination?" Patricia wonders.

Alicia rolls her eyes. "Does skiving Divination ever require a good reason?"

Angelina giggles weakly. "Exactly."

"So what made you undertake this death mission?" Alicia asks, mockingly dramatic. She and Patricia lean forward in unison toward Angelina to listen, abandoning their essays.

"This," Angelina declares, opening the front cover of the textbook she'd placed on the table and removing from it what appears to be a postcard. "It's a subscription to this German mail order catalogue that's exclusive to members only … but it's got all the kinds of tools and stuff they might need to make their tricks and gadgets. Fred mentioned it during the Yule Ball when we were talking to some bloke from Durmstrang, so I thought I'd buy him access to it for a year, see if he likes it."

"Uh, of _course _he'll like it," Alicia says, drawing back with a look of amazement. "Ange, that's so cool. He'll ask you to _marry _him!"

"As if," Angelina scoffs, smiling widely. "So what did you guys get the twins?"

"A gift card to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour," Patricia shrugs. "My uncle owled it to me for Christmas. He always forgets I don't like ice cream."

"I can't believe you don't like ice cream," Alicia whispers in horror.

"What about you, Alicia?"

Alicia smiles and shrugs. "I missed the deadline. Don't got a thing to give 'em."

"Prank them," suggests Angelina.

"They'll appreciate a good scare," agrees Patricia.

Alicia hums. "I'll consider it," she tells them.

"Maybe," Patricia says, "since you're going with Kenneth, you can just pretend that whatever he gets them is from you, too."

"Hey, that'd work," Angelina shrugs, "but it's a lot less exciting."

Alicia laughs.

"We're not exactly going together anymore," Alicia corrects. "Professor Sprout asked him to come to the Greenhouse this afternoon to redo his sap extraction, so we're going to meet up there."

"Redo it?" Patricia gasps. "All?"

"All. He was pretty furious." Alicia rolls her eyes and smiles. "In the meantime, I need to make up for some of the hours of sleep I'll be missing tonight."

She excuses herself to her dormitory, and sleeps soundly until seven-thirty.

Her eyes snap open without warning.

Alicia slowly pushes herself up onto her elbows, then onto her hands, into a sitting position. Scanning the room, with one of Patricia's skirts on the floor and Angelina's highest heels sitting on her bed, Alicia realizes that both of her roommates have already gone, and neither had bothered to call her awake in the process.

Sighing, she kicks off the sheets and stumbles over to her clothes, where she contemplates what to wear. Maybe she'll tear up her Yule Ball dress robes and smear makeup over her face like a bad Halloween costume. Would that scare them?

_I'm not doing that, _Alicia decides, wrinkling her nose. _I'm not going to humiliate myself just to get them._

As she up-ends her pile of clothes in weary search, a thought comes to Alicia.

_Scaring them wasn't a bad idea … _she ponders, _what it needs isn't something to scare them. More like … shock them._

As she thinks this, she pulls out a familiar dress from her trunk and a decisive smile sets on her lips.

_He did say he wanted a surprise._

Signing off on her plan, Alicia stands up, holding the dress, and turns to face Angelina's talking mirror on the wall.

Just for tonight, Alicia Spinnet as everyone knows her will be nowhere to be found.

The dress is something she bought at a Muggle boutique one summer when she visited her father's Muggle sister in Wales. She's worn it only once, while she was there, to a high school party that the (rather cute) friend of her cousin had insisted on dragging her along to. Alicia had danced a great deal that night, and tasted Muggle alcohol for the first time. (She hadn't liked it.)

When Alicia is done, she could still recognize her own reflection, though it's still far from the usual person staring back.

It's a little black dress of decent length with long sleeves and a simple neckline that graces her collarbone. This reflection's long hair is wavy and tousled, a couple strands on either side of her face while the rest was gathered into a ponytail at the back of her head. Her eyes are drawn darker than usual, smoky and stark against her fair skin and pale hair.

"I like it," says the mirror. "Dark damsel. Much more creative than Angelina and that other girl."

Alicia fights a smile. "I'm going out of my way to do this," she explains. "I normally wouldn't."

"Well, why not?" smirks the mirror. "You look nice."

"Nice?" Alicia repeats.

"Not at all," is her response. "You look naughty."

Alicia snorts into her hand and turns away to find her school robe. She pulls it on over her outfit and starts making her way down to the common room, which she finds mostly occupied by underclassmen.

The classroom is not at all hard to find, despite being a secret. Alicia knows this classroom well. It belonged to a group of students who had organized a study club in her first year at Hogwarts, though since they disbanded, it'd been out of use. Empty classrooms of all sorts and sizes were common in Hogwarts.

Alicia sees Jonathan Sale sitting outside the classroom door, and goes up to him.

"I assume you're the bouncer?" she smiles.

He looks up from his hands, and blinks four times when he sees her.

"Uh … Alicia Spinnet?" he guesses, eyes narrowed with uncertainty and awe.

"That's me," she whispers conspiratorially. "Am I on your list, Mr. Doorman?"

Jonathan draws himself up to his feet, not taking his eyes off of hers. "I'll put you at the _top_ of my list."

"Whoa-kay," Alicia says, laughing half-heartedly as she takes a step back with her hands lifted in the air. "Back up a bit there. For your information, I'm meeting Kenneth Towler inside."

Jonathan purses his lips and sighs lightly. "Blast," he mutters, smiling. "Alright then, go on in. Think I saw Towler in there with Dalton."

Alicia thanks him and enters the classroom. It's a small room, though there weren't too many guests in the first place, so there's a comfortable amount of free space between people. Dim fairy lights are set along the perimeter of the classroom as the April sun is about to disappear outside the window. Music fills her ears and the movement of so many figures at once suddenly overwhelms her.

She slows her pace as she weaves through the crowd, looking both ways with each step for a sign of either Angelina or Kenneth. Eventually she realizes that the former is probably (hopefully) busy with one of the party's hosts.

"Alicia!"

Alicia turns around at the familiar voice, relieved to find Kenneth making his way toward her around a fiercely snogging couple.

"Oh, there you are," she says, meeting him halfway. "I just arrived."

"Yeah, Patricia mentioned you were sleeping," Kenneth chuckles. "It's alright." He glances down at her, then right back up to her eyes. (Always the gentleman.) "But hey, you look great."

Alicia beams at him. "Thank you." She looks around briefly, asking, "So what've you been doing so far without me?"

"I've only been here a half-hour or so," he shrugs, following her eyes around the room. "Just been kicking back with the other Gryffindor guys." After a moment's pause, he adds, "Bloody lot of Ravenclaws here tonight, though."

"Roger Davies' work, I bet," Alicia muses. "He's too popular, that kid."

Kenneth laughs.

Alicia notices the bottle in his hand. "Is that Butterbeer?"

"Yeah," he says, holding it out to her. "Want some?"

Alicia wrinkles her nose, shaking her head gently. "No … I don't fancy it cold."

Kenneth looks into his bottle and shrugs. "Ah, well."

"Is there any food?" Alicia asks, her appetite slowly kicking into gear as she realizes that she slept through dinner.

"Uh, yes, plenty of it," Kenneth says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go grab you some snacks, yeah?"

Alicia smiles. "That'd be great. Thanks."

Just as Kenneth turns around, Alicia's eyes meet a _very _familiar pair of mischievous ones. She can almost _hear _the locking of their gazes as the other person lowers the bottle from his lips and turns his head to face her with an interested and daring glint in his eye.

"Oh, no," Alicia whispers to herself, though she smiles faintly as she watches _him _watching Kenneth Towler walk away from her.

And he moves.

Alicia decides against running away as he carefully makes his way over, through the sea of people, and just waits patiently as he takes his time approaching.

"Well, well, well," he murmurs, a smirk already in place as he fills her field of view. "Look at _you_. This is really … _really … _unexpected."

She feels his eyes running up and down before she looks up and confirms it – from her neck and along her legs, then all the way back up again.

"Go on, look while you can," she jokes. In a slightly lower voice, she tells him, "Consider it your birthday gift."

George's eyebrows shoot up and his smirk opens into a wolfish grin. "Best one yet, I gotta say," he says, breath ragged.

Electricity from the sound and his proximity courses down Alicia's spine, painfully slow and paralyzing.

"I guess you're just easy to please," Alicia smiles.

"I guess you know just what I like."

"Actually, I think you're just shallow."

George scoffs out a laugh and cocks his head to the side. "Yeah, I am," he tells her slowly. "I'm incredibly shallow."

Alicia raises her eyebrows, grinning. "Can I get that in writing?"

"I wasn't done," he says, grinning back. "If I'm so shallow, then the fact that you happen to look smoking hot tonight should be enough reason for us to have some fun."

She bites her lip and draws back, still grinning but shaking her head. "In your dreams," she says pointedly. "The birthday gift ends with the ogling."

He snickers and reaches up, scratches the side of his head. "I'm kind of known for pushing boundaries around here, love."

Alicia says nothing, working hard not to pay too much attention to how nice it feels to have the devilishly handsome George Weasley trying to make a move on her. It takes a lot of telling herself _it'd be over tomorrow it's just tonight he's looking for a hookup he's no good he's danger this is wrong this is a no-brainer come on girl he'll throw you away like Cathy Mordell he isn't— _

"Come on, we even match," George says, glancing down at his black t-shirt and once again at her black dress (or rather, all _over _her black dress). "It's so undeniable."

"Aw, cute," Alicia teases.

His eyes sparkle with the promise of a comeback, but before he can voice it, Kenneth Towler appears.

"Hey, Weasley, great party," he remarks, handing Alicia a plate stacked with a colorful assortment of foods. "This enough for you?"

"More than enough," Alicia assures him, taking the plate. "Thanks so much, Kenneth, I'm starving."

George steps back from Alicia, making sure Kenneth isn't focused on him when he mimics the guy and rolls his eyes.

Alicia holds back her laugh by shoving a Pumpkin Pasty in her mouth.

"Oh hey, before I leave you two lovebirds alone I forgot to mention," George says, flicking Alicia's shoulder, "that I got the chocolate you wanted. See me later."

"What? Why didn't you just put it with the rest of the food?"

George gives her a look. "Merlin, woman, that crap is expensive. I only got one box, alright?"

Alicia lifts her hand to cover her giggle as she forces herself to swallow the rest of her pasty.

Kenneth's eyes flicker between the two, but he stays silent until George leaves.

"So who was that?" he jokes. "I can never tell."

Alicia nods sympathetically. "It was George."

"How can you know?"

She grimaces. "Because Fred doesn't really speak to me all that much. And when he does," she adds, "he's much more polite about it."

Kenneth backtracks. "Oh. Uh … something funny happen with you guys?"

"No, no, we're on good terms," Alicia says. "We just don't get along as well as … like, he and Angelina do."

"You know, I never would've thought this in first year," Kenneth says thoughtfully, "but they suit each other, really well."

"Right?" Alicia agrees, absent-minded. She tears apart the paper box encasing her Chocolate Frog.

"Hey, I—"

"Ack!" Alicia interrupts him in his thought as the Frog, which she had turned her attention away from to listen to Kenneth, leaps out of her hold and hits the back of someone else's head. "Oh my goodness, I'm _so _sorry—"

"It's fine," says the girl, turning around to smile shyly at Alicia and Kenneth. It's Beth Copeland. "The good thing about Chocolate Frogs is that they aren't melty, right?"

Just to be sure, she reaches up and touches her fingers to her hair to check that it isn't sticky with chocolate.

"Do you want another one?" Kenneth grimaces, as he watches the Frog bounding off into the distance between partygoers.

Alicia stares after it longingly. "Yes, please."

He smiles before leaving the two girls alone. "Be right back, then."

"Enjoying the party, Alicia?" Beth asks, eyeing her meekly. "You look really … different tonight."

Alicia is probably an inch shorter than Beth, but the Ravenclaw girl is somewhat intimidated by the Gryffindor girl. She looks somehow fiercer right now, dressed in dark like a figure of mystery. Everything, from Alicia's natural confidence down to her sophisticated posture and even the careful way she holds onto her plate feels like it's all above Beth.

Alicia inclines her head and a lifted eyebrow in Beth's direction, smiling slightly. "My intention," she tells her.

Beth watches Alicia's fingers delicately pick up a truffle and pass it through her lips. "Oh. I see." After a few awkward seconds of silence, she adds, "So, um, how … have you been doing in Charms?"

Alicia glances at Beth from the corner of her eye as she savors her truffle, wondering whether the question was asked out of competitive curiosity or conversational politeness. In the end, she decides to say simply, "I think I'm doing well."

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I think you're doing more than well," she says, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Alicia carefully shrugs and replies, "So long as I don't fail."

"What do you want to do after school, Alicia?" Beth's tone sounds genuinely curious.

Suddenly, Alicia puts up her guard. She doesn't like people asking this question and she doesn't like answering it, mostly because she doesn't have a definite answer. Sometimes this makes her feel inferior to others, for lacking conviction in her future direction, for having an undefined goal, but nonetheless, Alicia doesn't foresee herself taking any careers that her classmates have dedicated themselves to. Healer, treasure hunter, Auror, entrepreneur – none of them fall within her inclinations.

Although her mother's money could theoretically support her for likely three quarters of her lifetime without problem, Alicia absolutely does not want to become that kind of unemployed, snooty socialite living off of her family's wealth.

"I have a few considerations," she lies delicately, "but it's really still up in the air."

Beth nods her head as though she understands. "Oh, alright then."

"How about you?" asks Alicia.

"Well, my OWLs were all great, so I could literally be anything I wanted," Beth tells her, smiling with pride.

_How about gone, _thinks Alicia, before biting her tongue and smiling back.

"I've been thinking about being a Mediwitch for the British and Irish Quidditch League," Beth shares.

Alicia fights her instinct to scoff at this and maintains her graciously interested composure. "You like Quidditch?" she asks, though she already knows the (true) answer.

"I like Quidditch _players_," Beth whispers, winking at Alicia.

Alicia smiles wryly. "Well, hello, I'm a Quidditch player."

Beth snorts and giggles. "You know, you seem so condescending sometimes, but you're actually funny."

Alicia inwardly sighs. She already knows that. "You're not so bad either, Beth."

"I meant Quidditch guys, for obvious reasons," Beth continues conversationally, still in high spirits.

"The training does wonders," Alicia agrees with a small smile, unable to help herself, "though it's a shame so many of the ones at Hogwarts are cocky jerks." Here she thinks of Roger Davies, the Weasley twins, Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey in particular. Oh, and she supposes Draco Malfoy should make her list, but she will never consider him a true Quidditch player. Not with that cheap buy-out of a try-out he pulled two years ago.

"Not all of them," Beth confides, still whispering. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm actually dating George Weasley at the moment."

The information takes at least three seconds to fully register in Alicia's mind.

In the end, it hits her like thunder.

"George Weasley is _dating _someone?" she says in disbelief, lowering her voice as she leans in closer to Beth.

"Yeah!" Beth says, excitement barely contained. "He doesn't usually do it, I know, so I think he might, like, you know, be … serious? Oh my _gosh, _I get shivers just wondering about it…!"

Alicia draws back, her mind racing as it tries to align the news with logic. To her, it seems highly unlikely that George Weasley would _actually _ask a girl _out_ rather than simply convince her to skive class to snog in his bedroom for hours. Then again, hadn't it only been last month or so when George mentioned Beth's name, asking Alicia for her opinion?

_If my memory isn't failing, _Alicia thinks, slightly confused, _he didn't seem too wild about Beth at that time. Has something changed since then? _

"That's concerning," Alicia deadpans, tilting her head a bit. "Are you sure he hasn't got an ulterior motive?"

Beth shakes her head. "You know, I thought about that too, but in the end, I decided that that's impossible. I don't think he even knows about my family's money. Even if he somehow found out, I don't think he'd do that. He's a Gryffindor."

"Beth…" Alicia says carefully, "you do realize that title isn't any indicator of integrity, right? I've known those Weasley fools for a long time now, and they happen to think they're above quite a lot of things. I wouldn't put it past them to be orchestrating some atrocious prank on you right now."

Additionally, she wouldn't put it past him to have said anything he had to in order to bag a cute girl like Beth, but she has a (pretty petty) dislike of this girl and she isn't about to stroke Beth's ego with a theory like that.

Beth draws in a breath. "Alicia, I didn't tell you this because I wanted you to act up and get like this."

"Oh, do tell why you've shared this with me then," Alicia says sarcastically. "If you honestly did not want anyone to know, you wouldn't have brought it up at all. I'm willing to bet you're trying to lord this over my head or something like that."

"Give me a break!" exclaims Beth, shaking her head scornfully at Alicia. "I'm nothing but friendly to you and you can't even get over your jealousy. You're right, I see that now – being a Gryffindor sure doesn't say a bloody thing about your character."

Alicia doesn't flinch or falter at Beth's biting tone, or at her cussing. She merely continues to stand still, holding her half-empty plate daintily between her fingers, eyes calm and smile faintly amused.

"Strange you should mention jealousy," she comments casually. "I don't think I'm the jealous one."

"You don't, do you?"

"What have I got to envy you for?"

"Charms," Beth insists. "You resent me for being in Flitwick's House. He'll always put me first."

"Flitwick's a nice man," Alicia says, her smile losing its dark amusement momentarily. "But I'm not quite in the same boat as you, Beth. It isn't like I'm trying to make him my father or anything."

"I never said I was!"

"Then stop acting like a needy child," Alicia says simply, as though presenting an obvious solution. "You don't need a teacher's gold sticker for everything, you know?"

"Gold what?" Beth repeats, for the first time looking mildly baffled.

Alicia grimaces. "Sorry. That slipped. It's a Muggle nursery school thing."

"Hey, sorry I took so long," comes Kenneth's voice, followed by his actual self seconds after as he shoves past a pair of tipsy Ravenclaws. "There was this epic IQ battle between Duncan and drunk Roger, and get this –" he pauses dramatically, completely unawares to the tense atmosphere between the girls in front of him, "Roger somehow wiped the floor with him. It was awesome!"

Alicia finds it in herself to shrug off the argument with Beth and turns to Kenneth with a light laugh. "Roger Davies is amazing indeed," she remarks, accepting his three proffered Chocolate Frogs. "Thanks again, Kenneth."

"Not a problem." He turns to glance at Beth. "So what've you two been discussing while I've been away?"

Beth smiles tightly at Alicia, her eyes still hard. Alicia can tell this is one thing the other girl is probably not going to let go of for a while. She mentally rolls her eyes; having grudges held against you is terribly annoying.

"Oh, I was just leaving," Beth tells him. "Think I'll go find my _boyfriend_."

Alicia limply lifts her hand in a pathetic wave in response, making it clear in her blank expression that she hardly cares for Beth _or_ her boyfriend.

"Boyfriend?" Kenneth repeats, as he frowns at Alicia. "Who's Beth dating?"

Alicia moves her finger to her lips. "Sorry, my lips are sealed."

* * *

George Weasley takes another swig from his bottle of Butterbeer, watching from the corner of his eyes as his friend Roger finishes another flask of Firewhiskey.

"You're sure going hard tonight, champ," George calls out over the din. "Ready for another round?"

Roger grins mischievously back at him, licking his lips like an animal. "Bring it, birthday boy!"

"Oi, oi, you've had enough," interrupts Duncan, stepping in. "Watch him, Weasley, or I'm gonna be carrying this deadweight back to our dorm on my back later."

"You're just sore 'cause I broke you hard in our fact-battle!" Roger laughs.

"Shove it," Duncan snaps. "Just don't let him get too wasted, alright? I don't wanna have to steal another hangover potion for him again."

Fred doesn't hold in his snort as he watches Roger swipe at a stationary Ice Mice on the table and miss by a wide margin. "I fear it's too late for that, my good sir."

"Tonight … s'the best," slurs Roger, stumbling over to Fred and looping his arm around the redhead's neck.

"Holy Hippogriff, your Firewhiskey breath's making my eyes water," Fred gasps , melodramatically displaying a choking expression. "It's a miracle how you pass so much of that down your throat without corroding it through."

Duncan looks up at the ceiling and groans loud and long.

"Listen, mate, I'm real sorry about his barmy arse," George says, clapping Roger mercilessly hard on the shoulder. "Tell you what, I'll get you that hangover potion before you leave here tonight. Deal?"

Duncan huffs. "Fine, then, I guess."

Roger starts to giggle like a schoolgirl and beams at Duncan. "You're so nice Duncan, let's have a drink! To niceness! To Duncan! Cheers!" He raises his fist and nearly punches a passing trio of girls, who duck and squeal and skitter away to safety.

"You aren't even holding anything, you nutter," Fred says, slightly awed by Roger's state.

George excuses himself from the group, intent on heading to Snape's stores and nicking a hangover potion (or two) for his pal.

Before he can make it to the door, however, his keen eyes catch sight of a messy ponytail just mere steps ahead by the window. It isn't the hair he recognizes immediately, for shades and colors are quite difficult to distinguish in this near-midnight darkness, but he never makes a mistake on identifying _legs_.

"Oh, good, you're still here," he says cheerily from behind her.

Alicia Spinnet turns around in all her delightful dressed-up glory. Heck, he still can't quite get over the fact that she looks like this for him.

"Not for long," Alicia says, wrinkling her nose in that way she always has. She glances down at the bottle in her hand. "Cold Butterbeer? Is that the best you've got?"

"It came free, so I didn't complain," George explains. "Too many tracks would be left if we tried to smuggle some hot stuff from the kitchens, you see?"

"The guard of a troublemaker is always up, isn't it?" Alicia observes. "That's somewhat impressive."

"Me?" George says. "It's _your _guard that's always up, little miss."

Alicia's lips tug upward for a moment, then she lowers her eyes. He makes a mental note to recall that she might actually like that term.

"Where's my chocolate, anyhow?" she says suddenly, raising her eyebrows and frowning. "The _one _thing I came for, and I _still _haven't gotten it …"

George smiles back, testing her.

"Unbelievable service," Alicia concludes. "I'm never coming back here again."

"Aw, don't say that," he says, grinning now. "I made chocolate-covered Towler happen, or did you forget?"

Alicia grins. "Too bad I couldn't enjoy it."

"Merlin, you're naughty."

"Joking!" Alicia shakes her head, still smiling. "Your effort was very much appreciated."

George glances cautiously at her from the corner of his eye, crossing his arms across his chest. "Huh. You're not satisfied, are you."

Alicia continues smiling, but says nothing. She lowers her eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes at her mysterious behaviour. "I got it, stop pouting. I didn't bring it _here_. I'll let you have your chocolate tomorrow, alright? You don't get it until you've held up your end of the bargain. You gotta stay 'til the end."

"You haven't been doing a very good job of keeping me entertained," Alicia points out. "And I wasn't pouting."

George laughs, then takes a step closer and leans down to whisper right by her ear. "How can I make it up to you, girl?"

Alicia doesn't seem bothered by the distance, but he can feel the heat of her skin due to his proximity.

"You can put me out of my misery and let me leave," she suggests slowly.

"Oh, come on now," George says, keeping his voice low and barricading her on one side with his arm. "Anything but that, Alicia."

He feels a certain sense of satisfaction when he catches sight of her shoulder trembling from a chill.

"Why have I got to stay so badly? It's not like you're even spending any time with me," Alicia says flatly.

George smirks wolfishly. "So that's your issue?" he says. "Well, god, woman, why didn't you just say so? That kind of thing is _so _easily taken care of."

Alicia raises the hand that isn't clutching her bottle and presses it firmly against his chest. "That is not what I meant and you know it."

George cocks his head and laughs lightly, using the hand that isn't leaning on the wall to wrap around her wrist and lower it from him. "Ease up, I'm only messing with you."

Alicia rolls her eyes. He really scares her sometimes.

"Unless, of course, you're willing to have a go," he continues slyly. "Step outside your good-girl fence for a night, can you do that?"

Instead of letting this go on, Alicia decides she's going to take the upper hand for a little bit here. He deserves it, anyway.

She places her hands on either side of his collarbone, then lets her fingers slide up around his shoulders and she grips the bones on his back as she pulls herself up to her tiptoes. Lightning-fast, one of his hands are on her waist, exactly in place. Alicia takes a second to marvel at how well George Weasley knows where to put his hands on a woman.

"Maybe I'm not the good girl you think I am," she says coolly, as she moves so that her mouth is right below his jaw.

His movements are much slower now, and when Alicia chances a glance up at his face, his eyes are stunned and cautious. His fingers have made their way subtly up her spine, into her hair, and he gently – gentler than she thought possible from him – tugs out the ponytail band.

As she shakes out her hair, Alicia laughs quietly by his ear, letting him enjoy the soft but clear tones of her voice.

"Holy shit," George whispers, sounding slightly hoarse. His fingers curl into a loose fist in her hair.

"What _exactly _do you want from me, huh?" Alicia questions, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He glances down at her, looking terribly conflicted and breathless, and says, "All of it. Whatever."

This is a first for George. He has never been struck speechless by a girl before. Now, looking down at Alicia, her pale blue eyes, the gentle touch of her fingers on his neck, the soothing sound of her voice, the perfect way she articulates her words – he's overwhelmed.

"Then come closer."

His grin grows. So Miss Alicia knows how to _play_.

He doesn't hesitate. Everything in his mind simply shuts off as he leans down and tilts his head to the side, positioned to meet her sweet lips perfectly—

"You know," she whispers suddenly, "I'm here with Towler."

The message wakes up every part of his brain. George freezes in place, mouth excruciatingly close to hers, the feel of her under the too-small area of his hand suddenly seeming forbidden rather than so, _so _right.

Kenneth and Alicia hadn't quite come _together_, but the meaning was still intact.

"Tell me, then," George says carefully, "why he's not around right now."

"Nowhere in that arrangement does it say I'm shackled to his side the entire evening."

"Right," says George, drawing back with a wry smile. "That's because you haven't gotten serious with him yet, love. Relationships are like that, a ball and a chain."

"And you would know, right?" Alicia says calmly.

"Hm?"

"Beth Copeland?" Alicia smiles. "Your _girlfriend_, Casanova."

George doesn't know what she's just called him, but he understands enough to realize that she's probably shaming him for his womanizing.

"Oh," he says, plain and simple. "Her."

"Yeah … _her_." Alicia leans her head back and looks down on him (the best she can, for he's obviously the taller one).

"Well, what's the problem?" George says. "I fool around with girls all the time. How is this any different? Hm?"

Alicia grimaces. "It's different because now you're wearing the ball and chain," she says, referring back to his earlier metaphor. "And that means something."

"So you're telling me," George says, raising an eyebrow, "that I'm better off just snogging her for an hour then dumping her in a corner?"

"That's a pretty way to put it," Alicia scoffs. "But, why not? Isn't that kind of your bad habit?"

"Bad habit?" George repeats, grinning fully. "That's a pretty way to put it."

Alicia gives him a look. "Don't mock me."

"Alright, I won't," he concedes, lifting a hand in surrender. "Didn't you not like Beth, anyhow?"

Alicia smiles at him, narrowing her eyes impishly. "I'm not looking out for her, I'm looking out for me."

"What're you worried about?" George smirks, the lure returning to his voice. "I'd take care of you."

"I'd rather not be made a fool of."

"Hey now, that isn't what I do."

"How can you try to kiss someone else when you've got a girlfriend?"

George rubs his neck, half-grinning. "You know what I'm like."

"Show me I'm wrong," she challenges. Her eyes are speaking dares, and he's liking the tone.

"And how do I do that?"

Alicia is quiet for a moment, then she looks him in the eyes. "Forget me," she says easily. "Don't make moves on me. I don't want to get involved in someone else's relationship and I don't want to know a guy who thinks it's alright to cheat."

"Cheat," George repeats, frowning. "We didn't even do anything, though."

"Yet," Alicia reminds him. "It isn't nice to mess with people like this."

"Is that so?" says George. "I don't usually play nice, though."

Alicia turns and slides out from between George and the wall, then pauses and looks over her shoulder at him. "Just leave me out of it, Weasley. I'm not your type; you and I both know that."

George restrains himself from commenting that the way she looks tonight happens to perfectly resemble his type, and watches her leave in contemplative silence. He bites his lip, remembering how close he'd come to having them on hers.

They don't run into each other again for the rest of the party, but he can't shake the feel of her off his hands all night.

* * *

By the time the party's population has dwindled down to a handful, George has procured the hangover potion as promised, and even lends Duncan a hand with carrying the intoxicated Roger Davies back to Ravenclaw Tower. (The Quidditch guys stayed longer than most of the other Ravenclaws.)

"_Where's_ … Freddie?" demands Roger, staring hard into George's eyes. "Where's that git? I wannnnnna … say guh-nigh' to him, tooooooo…?"

"Then you're out of luck, mate," George says brightly. "I don't know for sure, but I bet Freddie's off saying goodnight to someone else, in a very special kinda way."

Of course, he's talking about Angelina Johnson.

"You meannnn … he's snoggin' someone, ain' he?"

Duncan snickers. "Look at that, he's sharp even when he's insanely drunk."

"Wuh bout you two, matey?" Roger says, smiling widely at George and then at Duncan. "You sly dogs. Which lovely lassies didju blokes rough up tonigh', hmmmm?"

"None," Duncan mutters sourly. "I was too busy trying to keep you under control the whole time."

Alicia's last glance, the one aimed over her shoulder, flashes in George's memory.

"A hit-and-miss," he admits.

"Seriously?" Duncan says, stunned, while Roger chokes on laughter. "_You_?"

George can only shrug with one shoulder, since Roger's on the other one. "She might've found out about Beth." (How did _that _happen, anyway? George realizes he forgot to wonder about this earlier.)

"Oh, right." Duncan looks like he's refraining from smiling.

"You're sooooo funny, Georgie," grins Roger, more flushed than ever.

After ditching Roger and Duncan at Ravenclaw Tower, George heads back to his own dormitory, where he finds that Fred has already arrived, and passed out on the wrong bed.

"Blimey, did Angelina snog you 'til you lost consciousness?" George jokes, as he makes his way – (not bothering to be very quiet) – over to Fred's empty bed. "Didn't think you drank _that _much tonight."

George crosses over to his own bed to get a change of clothes. As he closes his trunk, he catches a glimpse of Honeydukes' best chocolate.

Turning away, he exchanges his black t-shirt, which carries the aroma of Butterbeer and Roger's Firewhiskey, for a clean one and strips to his boxers, then all but falls onto the mattress.

When his eyes close, he doesn't fall asleep.

He sees eyes. Not his own. These are blue.

_"Maybe I'm not the good girl you think I am."_

Hair in his hands. The hair, out of its band, down around her, perfect mess.

"_What exactly do you want from me?"_

The fingers at his pressure at his collarbone.

_ "Then come closer."_

Pressing herself up onto her toes.

_"I'm here with Towler."_

His eyes open, slowly. He realizes that he's been grinding his teeth.

_"—ball and chain. And that means something."_

He licks his lips. His mouth's gone dry. When did that happen?

He thinks of hers. Must be nice, he's willing to bet. Pretty smile like that's gotta give a pretty sweet kiss, wouldn't you think?

"_Forget me."_

It isn't until morning, after a near-sleepless night, that George realizes for whatever reason, he apparently can't.

* * *

**PLEASE READ.** To everyone who reviewed, thank you for your kind words! I hope you continue to read and enjoy the story, and let me know about it!

One of my favorite fanfictions reserves a spot at the end for clarifying reviewer questions, so I'd like to mimic that. As I don't have any questions right now, I'll respond to some comments.

In the future, feel free to fire me your questions! I'll answer them.

**auggiebeaniee:** Thank you so, so much for your glowing review. I love reading comments like this, and I'm extremely glad that you enjoy my story so much. If you have any questions, just ask me! I'll answer them here.

**simplexdreams:** I'm so happy you think I've nailed Alicia/George. I spend a lot of time thinking about ways they might fit together. Alicia's history and personality is, of course, my idea, but since there isn't much canon to go on with her, I figured it'd be alright. George, too, since we don't get much of how he behaves at school. I put together that comment from Ron in HP4 about the twins having looser morals and less regard for rules with the twins' line in HP6 about the pretty Muggle girl and just figured they would work well as heartbreakers. Haha! In the meantime, I will check out your stories, as you asked!

**GinnyPotter6891:** It's really great to hear that you like my characterization for Alicia. I've always imagined her to be a bit more composed than Angelina, and somehow a bit more high-class than most of the Gryffindors. You're meant to feel a bit sorry for Beth Copeland – I hope you're enjoying her characterization, too!

* * *

Reviews appreciated!


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